Right Beside You
by BrittWitt16
Summary: A Sequel to "The Wild Side." Sadie Bennet is struggling to cope after the formal. Her best friend is jumpy and distant ever since the attack, there's a new creature terrorizing the town, and her friends are all being forced to take sides in the war between werewolves and hunters. And that's all on top of her own insecurities and her budding romance Stiles. I don't own Teen Wolf.
1. Chapter 1

_"It well may be that we will never meet again  
In this lifetime, so let me say before we part  
So much of me is made from what I've learned from you.  
You'll be with me, like a handprint on my heart.  
And now whatever way our stories end,  
I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend._

_Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea,  
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird in a distant wood._

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But…  
Because I knew you…"_

The line faded softly, dispersing through the air and evaporating before it could bounce off the stark white hospital walls. Instead, all that remained was the hum of machinery, the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor. People were talking in the hallway, but it was hushed and indistinguishable. It'd been the same soundtrack all weekend, almost completely without change. Only shallow breathing and the occasional full-volume voice of a doctor or a parent coming in to check on the situation. The same monotonous routine since Friday night. And I hated it.

"Come on, Lyd. Your turn," I urged, stroking my thumb across the back of her stiff hand.

Her bruises had faded slightly, the skin becoming slightly less pale, but the limb was just as still as it had been the rest of my time here. No sign of life beyond a pulse and the slight rise and fall of her chest. I'd never gone so long without hearing Lydia Martin's voice, and after sitting by her bedside for so long, I was starting to notice how its absence was slowly breaking me.

"Lydia, please," I begged, cupping both my hands around hers. "You can't just miss your cue like this. Don't leave me hanging." Lydia's eyelid twitched slightly, and I held my breath. But it was no use. Even after several seconds, she remained unresponsive. I sighed, feeling my eyes prickle with unshed tears. "Lydia…you need to wake up," I begged, biting my lip hard in an effort to keep my composure. "I need you to wake up… And it's not just me. My mom needs you to wake up. Your mom needs you to wake up. All the kids at school. I mean, who's going to run the school if you're not there? Who's gonna be the—the envy of all the girl and all the guys' dream, huh?" I tried to force a chuckle out of my throat, but it was weak and broken. If anything, the pathetic sound just made my eyes water even more. "There's just so much we have to talk about. I mean, you're causing an uproar as usual. Everyone's worried sick about you." I looked around at the few cards and flowers that had been sent since she'd gone under. "Even Jackson came, apparently," I went on, tracing abstract patterns on the back of her hand. "Not that he came when I was awake. Or left anything. One of the nurses just saw him. He's still a jackass, but I guess he saved you, so…"

I paused to glanced at the heart rate monitor, still beeping steadily. I wanted to say that he'd saved her, but no one could be sure of that yet. The doctors said she was well on her way to healing. She would wake up soon if everything went according to plan. But the doctors still thought this was a mountain lion attack. I knew better. I wouldn't say Lydia was saved until I knew she was okay, and right now she was still stuck in limbo. She wasn't up and talking, but at least she wasn't…

"I have to talk to you about Scott and Allison, too," I said quickly, shaking my previous train of thought away. "They're back together now. At least, I think they are. They were dancing a lot at formal, and they kissed, so… Guess that means they can go back to being giggly and sickeningly adorable together, yeah?" Lydia's eyebrow twitched up ever so slightly, perfectly conveying the emotion she should not be able to feel while she was unconscious. "Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that," I said, shaking my head slightly. I glanced at the open door, biting my lower lip before I sighed. "I don't know where Stiles and I are right now," I admitted. I shifted in my chair, folding my arms on the edge of the bed and resting my head on top. "I mean, we danced, and then he almost kissed me and then I kissed him and… I don't know." I let out another pitiful sigh, tightening my grip on her wrist. "That's why I need you awake, you know? You… You said my love life was a hundred and ten percent your business. I mean, I just had my first kiss and I don't know what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to say to him or…"

I paused in my ranting, staring down at the sallow, lifeless face on the bed in front of me, sunken eyes and chapped lips, carefully framed by her usually vibrant hair. But today the strawberry blonde curls just looked dull and limp. This was hardly even the shadow of Lydia Martin.

"I…I just need my best friend back. I'm not gonna be able to do anything without you, Lydia. You can't just… You can't be…"

My brain wouldn't let me finish the sentence, but that tiny voice of guilt was still screaming in the back of my head. _"My fault. This is all my fault."_ Lydia had only been outside because I had run out of the dance. Lydia had only gotten attacked by Peter because I hadn't let him turn me. Lydia had been completely oblivious to all of the danger in Beacon Hills because I just kept lying to her about everything. If she'd known what was outside, maybe she wouldn't have come. She wouldn't have ran in, unaware and unprotected, if she knew there was a psychopathic murdering Alpha werewolf on the loose. She deserved to know just as much as I did. She was friends with me, with Allison, and we were both pretty heavily involved at this point. Hell, werewolves were the reason that Jackass Whittemore had broken her heart, left her because he wanted to be some wolfy lacrosse star. I'd just wanted to protect her, to let her go on with her normal life without having to face the music. But everyone around her knew. She was a target whether she knew what was happening or not, and this was proof. If lying was protecting her, then it shouldn't have been Lydia lying motionless in a hospital bed. It should have been me. I'd known for ages and decided not to tell her. I was the reason she walked into that field without knowing what she was getting herself into so if… If Lydia _died_…it was going to be my fault.

I'd started crying again, the warm tears dripping down my face faster than I could stop them. I tried to wipe my cheeks, but it didn't do much good. It was almost surprising just how much I could cry. I hadn't been able to the first day. I just sort of sat there and stared, void of all emotion. Then I'd woken up in the middle of the night, face soaked with tears, and I almost hadn't been able to stop since. My eyes just refused to dry out.

I took a shaky breath, retracting my hands and clasping them in front of me as if in prayer. But who did you talk to in a situation like this? I'd already prayed to God, to saints that were supposed to protect people. I'd bowed my head and tried to talk to my dad for over an hour. Lydia still wouldn't move. But then again, when had Lydia ever willingly let someone help her?

"Lyd," I begged. I stared at the edge of the blanket this time, not sure if I could look at her unresponsive face any longer. "Please wake up. I'm—I'm so sorry. It's my fault you're here and—and when you wake up I promise I'm going to try and fix everything. I'm gonna tell you everything, okay? No more lies. I—I'll tell you about the murders and Peter and—and Kate and Allison's family and Scott and Derek and everything. I'll tell you about what a fucking dumbass Jackson is, and about the video store and about formal. I promise! I'm gonna tell you, I just…! God, please, Lydia. Please, please, please wake up!"

The heart monitor continued its monotonous beeping. The machines all continued to whir. Lydia's chest rose and fell at an even pace. But that was the only response I got.

I let out a half-strangled sob as I began to cry once more, my head falling into my hands so my fingers could twist and knot in my hair. My nails dug into my scalp, and if I didn't know any better I would have said my elbows were leaving bruises on my knees. But I didn't seem to be able to stop. I rocked back and forth in the chair, trying to keep my sniffling quiet until I could stop the tears. Then I just sat there in silence, raw eyes staring down at the floor. A few late tears slipped off my nose and splashed on the white tile below, but I couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. I just watched in mild interest as they collected on the floor, falling farther and farther apart until my eyes finally dried out. I felt hollow, somehow. Like I'd shed all of my emotions and thoughts with my tears, let them fall down and spatter at my feet and leaving me a mere shell of myself. God, I was tired.

A hesitant knock at the door made my head shoot up, fingers quickly wiping at my eyes. My assurance that I was fine died half way out of my mouth when I actually looked at the door though. It wasn't a nurse or a doctor, the way it had been the last few times. It wasn't my mom or Mrs. Martin either. Instead, a very apprehensive Scott McCall stood in the doorway, one hand still raised to knock, and the other shoved deep in the pocket of his sweatshirt. I swallowed thickly, sniffling and running a hand over my hair to erase any evidence of my distress. But I knew it was useless. Scott could probably hear me crying from down the hall, even if he couldn't smell the salt in my tears that were coating the floor.

He immediately noticed my effort to hide. "Hey, it's fine. If anyone's got a reason to cry right now, it's you." That statement alone felt like a punch to the gut, and I felt my mouth hang open slightly. Scott's eyes went wide as he realized just how accusing he'd come across and he back-pedaled furiously. "No! No, I just meant… She's your friend and… Uh, sh-should I just come back later?"

"No, it's fine…" I nodded slightly and Scott edged into the room. He shut the door behind him without asking, looking around in a would-be-casual sort of way. "You got a haircut," I observed, raising a feeble hand to point at his head. His mop of brown hair had been cut short on the sides, trimmed so that it no longer fell in his eyes. It wasn't as short as Stiles, but it was still a significant difference. He looked older, more mature with his clean-cut hair and his forest green sweater.

Scott smirked, bobbing his head in agreement but narrowing his eyes. "Uh, you remember that time you made fun of me for making a comment about your clothes instead of asking the obvious question?" he asked. "Well, that's kinda what you're doing right now."

That coaxed a smile out of me. I gave a feeble grin, recalling the first time I'd invited myself over Scott's house, right after I found out that he was a werewolf. But the grin quickly slid off my face as I remembered that I'd been in a sling during that visit. That was the first time Lydia and I had been attacked by Peter. And now it had happened again.

"What are you here?" I asked quietly, barely lifting my head to look at him.

Scott's face quickly became serious, getting back to the matter at hand. "I wanna try something," he confessed, rolling up his sleeves and taking a few steps towards Lydia's bed. I opened my mouth to protest on instinct, but he sent me a reassuring look. "I promise, I'm not gonna hurt her. Exact opposite, hopefully." At his insistence I bit my lip, sitting back down in my chair with just a twinge of worry still etched onto my face.

Scott took a deep breath before stepping right up to the hospital bed. Cautiously, he lifted Lydia's left forearm, wrapping his hand around it as gently as he could. Then his eyes fluttered shut and there were a few seconds of silence. I barely suppressed a gasp when the veins on Scott's arm suddenly began to swell. I could see them pulsing through his skin, pumping what seemed to be black blood into his body.

"Scott…"

"It's fine," he mumbled, eyes still shut tight in concentration. I grudgingly held my silence, gripping the arms of the uncomfortable hospital chair for all I was worth.

Eventually, the veins ebbed away once more, leaving Scott's tan skin completely smooth. He pried his eyes open and set Lydia's arm gently back on the bed next to her.

"What the hell was that? Are you okay?" I asked quickly, scooting to the edge of my chair and letting my eyes fly back and forth between my two friends.

Scott shook out his hand, flexing the fingers experimentally. "Yeah, fine. I just took some of her pain away."

I raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You what?"

"Took some of her pain away," he repeated with a small shrug. "Just a little bit. Apparently it's another perk of being a werewolf. First time I've used it on a human, though. Deaton's been teaching me to help the animals down at the clinic."

I let my eyes slide back to Lydia. There didn't seem to be any difference. Her skin was still sickly white, her limbs still, her heartbeat steady. But that small crease between her eyebrows did seem to have faded a bit. I cleared my throat. "Wow, well…um…thanks…"

He shrugged off the praise, sidling around the end of the hospital bed to face me. "How are you?"

"Fine," I said quickly, and cringed at how small my voice sounded.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Stiff." I glared at the white padding that stretched the length of my right shoulder, hiding the long slashes that Peter's claws had left in my skin. "They're giving me meds and everything, but I don't know what it's doing. I just try not to move it too much."

"Well, here," Scott offered, raising his hand and taking a few steps in my direction.

"No!" Scott halted immediately, even jumping back slightly with both his hands held up. I winced at the look of confused panic on his face and cleared my throat. "Um…no. Really. I'm fine."

He lowered his hand, eyes narrowing as he took in my hunched position in the chair. "Something's wrong."

I rolled my eyes feebly. "No shit, Sherlock. Take a guess." I waved my hand towards Lydia's bed, but Scott just shook his head.

"No… It's me." He took a step back and stared at the floor.

"Scott," I protested, but I broke off when his head snapped up.

"Sadie, I am so sorry that all of this happened," he said. "I mean it. You've been so great and helping out whenever you could and I am _so_ sorry. And—And I know that the other night was crazy and that—that everything sort of became real, you know? Because you hadn't really seen me or Derek like that but… If you… If you don't want to do this anymore… I get it." Scott paused, playing with his hands. "I'm really sorry you got hurt, Sadie. And Lydia. And… I'm gonna try and make sure it never happens again." My mouth fell open and I just blinked at him. He seemed to take that as some sort of silent agreement, because after a few seconds he nodded. "Right. I'm just gonna…"

"No!" I said quickly, stopping his retreat to the door. Scott turned back, but his big, brown puppy dog eyes looked resigned, making a pang of guilt shoot through my stomach. "It's not that. God, that's not it at all. It's… It's _me_."

"It's not you, it's me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "Yeah, it's just… I'm… I'm the last person you should be helping."

Scott's doubt quickly faded to shock. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, moving my gaze to the white patch of floor that my tears had washed off. "I almost shot you, Scott."

The reminder was followed by several heavy seconds of silence as we each thought back to the night's events. Or rather, Scott did. I was doing everything I could to not think about it. I didn't want to think about the gun in my hand, or how terrified Scott had looked crouched in front of me, even if he was a wolf. I didn't want to think about Kate laying her finger over my own, or how she hadn't needed to help when I started to pull the trigger. I'd almost shot Scott for the hell of it, and here he was, in my best friend's hospital room, apologizing to me for what we'd gone through. How could I let him think, even for just a second, that it was his fault? Was I that terrible of a person?

"But you didn't."

I looked up sharply, my eyes beginning to water. "What?"

Scott shrugged. "You could have done it, but you didn't. You didn't shoot me."

"But I could have!" I balked. "Maybe—Maybe I didn't kill you, but I held a gun and I pointed it at your face! Scott, I was going to shoot you! Not even to kill you! I was going to shoot you in the knee just because I could! Just for some sick power trip!"

"Even if Kate had made you shoot me, I would have healed," he countered. He seemed totally calm. Much calmer than anyone in his position should have been. Why wasn't he running? Why wasn't he screaming at me, or better yet, attacking me? _That's_ what I deserved.

"This isn't about Kate, Scott!" I burst. "This is about me! I was going to shoot you! I wanted to!" The room sank into complete silence again, Lydia's heart monitor beeping away behind me. "If… If Mr. Argent hadn't shown up, I would have shot you, Scott. Not Kate pulling the trigger. Me. And I—I'm sorry. God, I know that doesn't mean anything, but I'm sorry. I just… I was so scared and I wanted to be powerful and… I wanted to shoot you."

I let my gaze fall back to the floor, too ashamed to look at anything but the scuffed toes of my shoes. But at least it was out in the open now. I could stop thinking about it. I didn't have to steep in my guilt while I sat alone at Lydia's bedside, running through all the different possible outcomes of the conversation. Scott didn't even have to yell. He could just walk away. He'd tell Stiles. And that would be the end of it.

"What about now?"

I lifted my head. My vision was blurred with tears, but I could tell that Scott had taken a few steps closer to me. "W-What?"

"Do you want to shoot me now?" he clarified.

"What?! No! No, of course not!"

"Okay."

I tried to blink away my tears, desperate to get a clearer view of his face. But Scott still looked utterly calm. He didn't look upset in the slightest. He'd stuffed his hands in his pockets, still actually moving closer. "Okay?" I repeated with wide eyes. "That's it? I tell you I wanted to shoot you and all you've got it 'okay'?"

"I've almost hurt you a lot more often than you've tried to hurt me."

"That's different, Scott," I scoffed. "You're a werewolf."

Scott sighed, but instead of leaving he closed the distance between us. He pulled up the other hospital chair, gently lowering himself to sit beside me. I tried to pull away, like my subconscious was afraid I'd snap again if I got too close to him, but Scott ignored the physical reaction. "It's like that night at the school," he explained, rubbing his hands on his knees. "I tried to kill you guys. I wanted to."

"But you were being controlled by Peter," I interrupted.

He waved me off. "Part of me was being influenced by Peter, yeah. Being a werewolf is part of who I am, but I think everyone has that side to them, you know? Maybe mine's a little more dangerous, but you've got one too. So does Stiles. Allison, Lydia. And I think on Friday, maybe Kate was just like Peter. She brought out your dark side."

I shifted in my chair. I didn't like that idea. I didn't like that idea at all. The Sadie Bennet that left Menlo Park would not have been capable of shooting her friend for the hell of it. Had I changed that much? Or had I always been some power-hungry psycho that was great at hiding it? Even to myself?

"Sadie, it's really okay," he promised. "It's… Well, nothing we go through is _normal_, but…" He chuckled slightly, and even I let out an inch of a smile. "Everyone has to learn to control their dark side. And if I did it, then you definitely can. You're loads better than I am." He gently bumped his knee into mine, but I simply leaned forward, avoiding his gaze.

"Thanks for the confidence, but…I don't know. I mean, they thought Anakin wasn't going to go dark side either, you know?"

"Who?"

There was a beat of silence as I finally lifted my head, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Anakin. As in Vader."

"What?"

My mouth actually dropped open. "Seriously? Scott, how do you not know who Darth Vader is?"

"Oh!" He jumped slightly in realization. "That's the, like black robot from _Star Wars_, right?"

My hand flew over my mouth as I burst out laughing, the first time in days, shaking my head all the while. "Oh my God, I'm gonna pretend I never heard you say that."

"What?! He is, right?!"

"No!" I giggled. "He's… He's just a guy. He was this really great guy, with friends, a wife, a lot of power, but…it went to his head…and it turns out he was a lot more dangerous than anyone expected…" The laughter quickly faded away as I remembered what we were supposed to be talking about. I bit my lip, hard, but Scott nudged me again.

"Well, I don't think you're dangerous," he consoled. "Maybe the protective kind. I mean, I wouldn't mess with you. But you're not evil."

"Is it possible to not be both?" I asked helplessly.

Scott decided not to answer that. He just looked at me, but the answer was there. He should have been yelling at me, turning his back. But instead he held my gaze, sitting next to me without fear of what I was capable of. It hit me after a few seconds that this must have been how Scott felt the first time I visited him. I didn't have the excuse of some supernatural bite. I was completely human when I tried to hurt him. Maybe I didn't have superpowers, but I still felt like a monster. Scott didn't see it that way. Instead he was just as willing to help me work on my human problems, as I'd been to help him with his furry one. And he probably couldn't see it, but to me that seemed even more amazing.

"Hey," he said after a few seconds. "Would you, uh…_not_ tell Stiles about the Darth Vader thing? He'd probably kill me."

I giggled, shaking my head at him. "Yeah, absolutely."

"Thanks."

"No," I corrected with a smirk, "I mean Stiles would murder you. And it would be painful and bloody. To be honest, you do that again and I'll probably help him."

I expected him to pout, make some joke about how teaming up on him wouldn't be fair. But Scott's face morphed into a mirror of my smirk, and I felt my stomach drop. "So," he drawled. "You and Stiles?"

"Shut up," I grumbled, trying to elbow him in the ribs.

Scott laughed, grabbing by arm before the thought of hitting him had even fully formed in my head. "Hey," he said. He held my hand, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back. "It's gonna be okay."

I allowed myself a small smile, and Scott grinned back. I knew that he couldn't actually know things were going to be okay. Lydia was hospitalized. Derek was an Alpha. Allison's family knew Scott was a werewolf. There was no telling what was going to happen to any of us. But I was too tired to dispute the lie for now.

My right arm began to tingle slightly. I quickly looked down, only to find that the black veins had reappeared on Scott's arm, the one that was holding my hand.

"Scott," I scolded, wrenching my arm out of his reach.

Scott just smirked proudly. "See? Don't you feel better?"

The truth was that I did. I hadn't exactly been in pain before, but it was still an improvement. My arm felt lighter, less itchy and cramped. But I was too annoyed at that Scott had tricked me to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. "No, actually. I feel gross, terrible and diseased. And I probably reek of wolf."

Scott rolled his eyes, but before he could reply the door swung open and my mom strode into the room, balancing paper bags in her arms.

"Hi, sweetie, so I got you…" She trailed off when she noticed Scott, and dropped the bags onto one of the other hospital chairs. "Oh, sorry. Sweeties, plural."

"Hi, Mrs. Bennet," Scott chuckled, brushing off his pants as he stood.

"Scott," she replied with a nod. "I didn't know you were stopping by. Are you staying for lunch?"

"No, no," he said, waving her off. "I was just heading out."

"Well, _fine_!" She pouted for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Well, tell Allison I said hi."

Scott paused on his way to the door, almost imperceptibly. I noticed that for a moment his smile seemed forced, and he gave a tight nod. "Uh, will do."

"Hey," I called him back. For the first time in days, I got up from my chair without necessity. The only other time I'd left Lydia's side was to go to the bathroom, but stretching my legs felt nice. I crossed the room, pulling Scott into the best hug I could muster with my arm taped up. "Thanks for coming."

"Hey, no problem," he said, squeezing back. "Couldn't let Stiles pull all the weight, right?"

I pulled back and bit my lip, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "How…How is he?"

Scott smirked, earning himself a solid glare. "He's fine. Dead asleep in the waiting room. Just waiting on you." He raised his eyebrows suggestively and I smacked his shoulder, making him laugh. "Okay! Okay, I'm going."

"I'll talk to you later," I added with a probing glance. I wanted to know his reason behind the hesitation about Allison, but I had a feeling it was a conversation we couldn't have around my mother. Allison might have been fine with dating a werewolf, but something told me that none of our parents would feel the same.

Scott nodded, understanding the message, and then ducked out of the room. The door had been shut for less than a second before my mother went off. "Would you please just go out there and talk to him?!"

"No," I sighed, turning back to the room. I snagged a water bottle out of one of the shopping bags, but she looked so frustrated that I wouldn't have been surprised if she just snatched it back. "I have to stay with Lydia."

"Lydia's not going anywhere, sweetheart," she said, softening slightly. "She'd want you to be happy."

"Mom, I'm fine. If it were me…"

"Don't say that."

"If it were me, Lydia wouldn't leave either."

"And would you want her frozen by your beside, looking as tired as you do?" she retorted. "You know if she could she would be the first person to kick you out of here. Just go talk to Stiles."

"It's… It's not that simple, Mom."

"What's not simple about it?! You kissed him and he kissed back!"

I simply shook my head, stalling for time by taking a long sip from my water bottle. I'd told my mother everything I could about what happened Friday night. I couldn't just _not_ tell her about my first kiss. That wasn't the way our relationship worked. So I'd given her a slightly different version of events, one that lined up with the story we'd given Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles and I had danced, I freaked and ran out—at which point my mother had looked like she wanted to smack me—and then Lydia and I had been attacked. We came to the hospital, but I was too distraught to stay around Lydia for long. I'd gone wandering around the hospital, crying my eyes out, until Stiles found me. He'd brought me home to get changed, tried to calm me down, and in the haze of my distress I'd kissed him. He'd kissed back, but we both decided we should stop. I was injured and emotionally compromised. And that was close enough to the truth for me not to feel too guilty about lying to my mother. Of course, Stiles didn't know about the last part of the story. I hadn't really gotten the chance to talk to him since that night. Or maybe I did have the chance, but I was just too terrified to take it.

Friday night I'd thought the kiss was perfect. Stiles had kissed me back, I'd kissed him again, but… That was the trouble with locking yourself in a room by yourself for a few days. I couldn't talk to Lydia, so I'd done a lot of thinking. And as usual, I'd managed to think myself right back into a corner. What if it'd only been a relief thing? What if we were both high on adrenaline and Stiles had kissed me back because I was there? Or worse, what if it was a pity thing? Lydia was hospitalized and we'd been through a whole ordeal and he just felt bad for me? I knew that any of my friends would have slapped me for even thinking it. That wasn't the kind of guy that Stiles was. But being alone for that long made it hard not to think about the possibility. And thinking about the possibility had paralyzed me with fear of finding out exactly what _had_ happened.

I managed to make my mom drop the subject with a few more repeats of "It's complicated" and "I'm fine." She was pouting like a petulant child, but she'd stopped pushing, at least. Usually it didn't bother me too much. I knew that she wanted me to be happy, and that she loved Stiles to death. She was so excited to watch me go through all of my firsts—kiss, date, boyfriend, sex and whatever. I was just too busy worrying I was going to fuck it all up.

Miss Eleanor joined us a few minutes later, smiling tiredly and taking the seat on the opposite side of Lydia, next to my mom. They talked for a bit, trying to distract themselves from the reality of the situation, but I just tuned them out. What good was talking when Lydia was comatose? I just picked at the food my mother had brought back for me, and then went back to resting my head on the bed. I had to pull my chair in as close as I could, fold my left arm under my head like a pillow while the right held onto Lydia's hand. So far, it'd proved a fairly pointless routine, but I wanted to be as close as I could in case something happened. I wanted my eyes on her at all times, and if my eyes were closed, my hands would suffice. I was just waiting for some sign she was going to be okay, something more than a pulse or a twitch that would send me into a frenzy, thinking she was going to wake up only to be disappointed. So the first time her hand twitched in mine, I thought nothing of it. It wasn't until her whole hand tightened around my fingers that I reacted.

I ripped my head off the mattress, startling our mothers. "Lydia?" She didn't respond for a moment, but I felt her fingers wiggle slightly in my hand. I jumped out of the chair, sending it skittering back with a clatter, and grabbed the edge of the hospital bed so hard that my knuckles turned white. "Lydia?!"

"Sadie? What is it?" Lydia's mother asked rapidly, mirroring my position on the other side of the bed.

"She—She squeezed my hand. I think she's…"

Before I could finish, Lydia let out a quiet groan, her head lolling to the side and pulling her hair across the pillow. Mrs. Martin gasped, hands flying up to her mouth as she stared down at her daughter. My mom batted her on the arm and backed out of the room.

"I'll go get the doctor."

"Lyd?" I repeated, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Lydia?"

"Hm?" Lydia hummed slightly, returning the pressure on my hand as her eyes fluttered open. She seemed completely normal, as if she were waking up from a long nap rather than some kind of coma. Her mother swooped down on her, smothering her face in kisses while I collapsed forward and face-planted into the bed, laughing and crying from relief. She was okay.

Lydia was thoroughly unamused by the fuss we were causing. Generally she loved being the center of attention, but at the moment all she wanted was to pretend nothing had happened at all. That meant convincing us all that she was fine, so she could get out of the hospital, go home and get back to normal. The doctors, oddly enough, seemed to be on the same page, and assured us that Lydia seemed to be fine. They checked her over calmly, apparently not as astonished as the rest of us that she'd finally woken up. They checked her vitals, the cuts and the bite on her side, all of which seemed to be in the best condition we could hope for. They'd tried to make us vacate the room while they looked her over, but I refused to leave Lydia's side. She didn't seem to mind my insistence though. She'd occasionally reach out and grab my hand again, too proud to actually say anything, but still in some need of reassurance. She hadn't wanted any from her mother though. Lydia had told both of our parents to stop worrying so much and let the doctors do their jobs. My mother had reluctantly smirked—a defiant Lydia was a healthy Lydia after all—and pulled Miss Eleanor out of the room so they could tell everyone that Lydia was awake and healthy.

In the end, the doctors decided there wasn't much to be done. Lydia's side was holding up well, and had done a considerable—yet not supernatural—amount of healing while she was asleep. The medication had kept her under so her body could focus on healing, but there was no immediate need to keep her hospitalized. So long as she was supremely careful and continued to stay well rested, Lydia would be able to go home and come in for a check up every few days. They wanted to keep her overnight, but Lydia practically threw a fit, demanding that she be released.

"I'm not stupid, okay?! I just want to go back to my own house and sleep in my own bed, not go traipsing through to woods or jumping out of airplanes! And if there's nothing else you people can do, then a team of doctors breathing down my neck is _not_ going to help a girl heal!"

I probably should have tried convincing her to stay the night, reminding her that she'd been out for a while and it would probably be best not to move her. But I was too happy to see her awake to do anything but smile maniacally as she put the doctors back in their place. It'd been far too long since I'd witnessed Lydia's sass, and I was still riding the high of having my best friend back.

All the attitude did tucker her out though. As soon as the doctors left, I had to force her to lie down again. She fought me the whole way down, but was dozing almost as soon as her face hit the pillow. I took up the chair Mrs. Martin had been occupying earlier, right next to Lydia's head, and stayed there for the next few hours. My mom and Miss Eleanor had both offered to watch over her in my stead, so I could go stretch my legs, get some food—insert pointedly raised eyebrows—and _talk to my friends_. But I simply shook my head, pointing out that I was still holding Lydia's hand, and if I moved I might wake her up. The only thing that made me want to move in the slightest was the arrival of Lydia's father.

I'd met Mr. Martin a handful of times over the summer. He'd been cordial, but he wasn't a good enough actor to hide his distaste about my mom and I moving into the house in his absence. He saw us as intruders, and no matter how many times he smiled or thanked us for watching over his girls, he couldn't hide how much he was really looking down his nose at us. Sure, that annoyed me a little bit. We'd been invited in because he decided to abandon his family, not because we pushed him out of it. And I didn't like the way he looked at my mom like she was some sort of wounded animal that had been left on the side of the road—completely incapable of taking care of herself since her husband died. No, the real reason I didn't like Mr. Martin was the way he looked at Lydia.

Maybe it was because she'd chosen to stay with her mother, but Lydia's father seemed to think Lydia was just a teenage tragedy waiting to happen. He didn't seem to trust her in the slightest, always making some sort of slighting comment about how she was dressing, or the people she was associating with, or the amount of time she spent socializing. He thought she was just some weak little girl that was going to get corrupted by her mother and all the other bad influences around her. For example, me.

I might not have been as pretty as Lydia, or as smart, or as social, but that didn't mean I was a delinquent. Mr. Martin was of the opinion that Lydia befriending and feeling responsible for a damaged girl from an incompetent, single parent home was only going to take her bad places. Her grades would drop, she'd start acting out, and her life would effectively spiral out of control. I didn't really give a shit about how he saw me. I didn't see him enough to care. But this man was supposed to be Lydia's father, and the fact that he thought so little of her—that she was weak and incapable of being her own person—really ticked me off.

Mom had asked me to play nice. Tensions were already high, and we didn't need to complicate things with unwarranted animosity. I was trying really hard to comply, but it was very difficult. I'd already passed up several opportunities to shut him down with a sarcastic comment, but I still managed to bite my tongue, if not for Lydia's sake, then for her mother's. But the peace could only last so long.

"Do you want help getting in the shower?" he asked as I helped ease Lydia into a sitting position. Mom was keeping Miss Eleanor busy in the gift shop, hoping to keep her as far away from her ex-husband as possible.

Lydia and I both paused in our motions, glaring at him. "Wow," I offered, "that's really considerate. Driving to the hospital days _after_ your daughter gets attacked just so you can help her shower when she wakes up. Not creepy at all."

Mr. Martin crossed his arms over his chest, biting the inside of his cheek before grinding out and answer. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

"Maybe if I was four," Lydia said groggily, sliding off the bed and limping past him. "And still taking bubble baths."

"Right, I'll just wait outside then," he agreed, "where it's slightly less sarcastic." He glared at me for a moment before heading out into the waiting room.

I flipped off the door as it closed behind him, making Lydia giggle until she jostled her side and winced. I stepped forward in concern. "Seriously, though, are you going to be okay? I'll stay if you need me to."

"Oh my God, why are you so obsessed with me?" she gasped as she batted me away. I gave her a pointed look until she sighed, smiling softly. "I'll be fine, promise. I think I can manage to shower alone without having a complete breakdown."

"Okay," I sighed, rubbing her shoulder slightly. "If you're sure." Lydia dismissed me with a nod, but called me back before I could make it to the hallway. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," she said quietly.

I smiled, nodding bracingly with my hand on the doorknob. "Yell if you need me," I said, knowing she wouldn't want to drag out the heartfelt moment anymore than we needed to while we were still in the hospital.

I ducked out of the room for the first time that weekend, gazing around awkwardly. The waiting room seemed almost foreign at this point, I was so used to the walls of Lydia's room. But there was the desk with the nurses on duty, a few hallways leading to more hospital rooms, and the small collection of chairs in the waiting room. I bit my lip, noticing the sleeping figure residing there.

Stiles had slung his lanky body over three different hospital chairs, balancing off the arms while his head lolled backwards and upside down. Someone had clearly brought him a change of clothes—Scott, probably—since he was in a T-shirt and jeans instead of the formalwear I'd seen him in last time. Or maybe someone had finally convinced him to go home. I doubted it, though. It seemed like my mother had been casually checking on him every fifteen minutes, just to make sure he hadn't run off. But he had kept his word, obviously exhausted from the ordeal of Friday night and all the waiting. He must have heard the good news about Lydia, judging by the _"Get Well"_ balloon that was bobbing gently above him. I held back a giggle as he mumbled in his sleep, mouthing words I couldn't hear as his legs twitched, one thrown out in front of him while the other was propped up on the wall.

"All weekend?" Mr. Martin's whiny voice asked someone from behind me. "Can't you make him leave?"

"Actually, I learned a long time ago that I can't seem to make Stiles do anything."

I turned on the spot to find Lydia's father standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down a very familiar nurse. Mrs. McCall would have looked amused if she wasn't the one who actually had to deal with the irate patron. He seemed to have pulled her away from her shelving job to complain about Stiles. Typical. If he couldn't bother Lydia and I, he had to go and find someone else we knew. I was about ready to go snap at him to leave Mrs. McCall alone, but before I could he was off again.

"You can't make him leave the premises? Well what are they paying you for if you can't maintain an orderly atmosphere for your patients?"

"Probably the medical upkeep of patients like your daughter," Mrs. McCall replied shortly. "I'm a nurse, Mr. Martin, not crowd control. Stiles isn't the one causing a scene. Besides, he's not here for your daughter. He's here for _that_ daughter."

I froze on the spot as Scott's mother gestured in my direction with a smirk. I felt my face heat up as she smirked, and reluctantly shuffled in their direction. "Uh…hi Mrs. McCall."

"Sadie," she replied with a nod.

Mr. Martin pursed his lips, pointing towards Stiles's spot on the chairs. "Belong to you?"

"Oh no, he doesn't belong to me," I replied, shaking my head adamantly. "You might have missed it, but they outlawed slavery a few years ago."

Mrs. McCall struggled to contain a laugh as he glared at me. "Unbelievable," he huffed, and stormed off.

I watched him go with a supreme feeling of satisfaction, though I knew I'd probably pay for it later. I turned back to Mrs. McCall with remorse. "Sorry about that."

She held up both hands, shaking her head with a grin. "It's fine. Not your fault. Well," she paused to nod in Stiles's direction, "_that_ might be your fault, but I don't hear him complaining."

"How is he?" I sighed, wrapping my arms around my torso as I turned to stare at him with worry.

"Strange. Unconscious. Worried," she offered. "Probably a lot better if you'd actually talk to him."

I bit my lip. "I just don't know what to say."

Mrs. McCall grinned, rubbing my shoulder gently. "You want in on a secret? None of us do. That's the fun of dating." I raised an eyebrow incredulously, watching as one of Stiles's feet slid off the chair and fell to the floor with a thud. Mrs. McCall tilted her head to the side, silently agreeing with my overall air of skepticism. "Why don't you just start with waking him up? Good luck." She hurried away with a nervous smile, abandoning me with Stiles without any idea what to say.

I bit my lip again, wringing my hands and slowly edging toward the row of chairs he had claimed for himself. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to say, so I didn't want to wake him up yet. I mean, where did you start after everything we'd been through? Lydia was awake, though, and supposedly fine, so wouldn't he be expecting some sort of forthright confession? Was I supposed to wait for him to bring it up? No. This was Stiles, for one thing, and he was waiting on me to be okay. He wouldn't want to push me for an answer, which meant I would have to broach the subject on my own. God, that was awkward though. How was that gonna work? "_I think we need to talk"_?That sounded cliché and desperate. But I couldn't just poke him awake and say, _"So how about that kiss, yeah?" _

I settled for perching myself on the edge of one of his chairs, the end one that his foot had just vacated. I took a shaky breath, glancing at his sleeping form out of the corner of my eye. Was I just going to sit here until he woke up? Was I going to wake him up?

Before I could make a decision, Stiles's left foot slipped from its place on the wall and inadvertently kicked me in the back.

"Ow!" I jumped forward slightly in the chair, rubbing at my shoulder. Stiles groaned, his face scrunching up as he adjusted his position in the chair. "Stiles?" I asked tentatively, glad he was waking up on his own. If I woke him up on purpose then I needed to have a reason. If he woke up on his own, maybe we could delay the conversation just a little longer.

Stiles hummed slightly in response to his name, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

I bit my lip, trying not to grin too widely at the cute action. "Thanks for waiting for me."

"Sadie," he mumbled, his head lolling to the side as his nose crinkled slightly. I rolled my eyes and began to wring my hands again.

"Yeah, it's me. Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

Stiles didn't respond immediately. He shifted again in the chair, eyes squeezing shut hard as one of his hands dragged lazily over his stomach. I tried desperately not to follow the action. "Mm, Sadie…"

"Stiles?" I asked again, narrowing my eyes. "Are…Are you even awake?" I craned my neck, trying to discern whether he was squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to adjust to the light or if he was just twitching in his sleep. As I leaned forward though, my upper arm brushed along the leg that had just fallen down behind me. Stiles moaned, and I jumped back so quickly I nearly fell off the chair, hands flying over my mouth with a cry.

My yelp of surprise finally woke Stiles from his slumber. He jolted awake, eyes flying open and fluttering as he tried to adjust as quickly as he could. "Sadie?"

And then his eyes actually met mine. We stared at each other for a solid three seconds in silence—Stiles looking disoriented and hazy while I remained shocked and terrified. Was Stiles…? Had I just…? Had he just been…?

Before my brain could successfully complete any of those thoughts, Stiles's brain caught up with reality. "Oh my God! Sadie!" He tried to scramble back, only to remember that he was actually precariously perched on a row of chairs. His arms and legs flailed as he tried to keep himself from falling while putting as much distance between the two of us as he could. He toppled sideways onto the floor, hit his head on the tile, kicked one of the chairs away from the wall, and then promptly smacked himself in the face with the _"Get Well"_ balloon. I just watched, caught between amusement and horrified embarrassment. Stiles finally managed to scramble to his feet, violently snatching the balloon out of the air and using it to cover his increasingly red face for a moment, before he decided it would be more useful if precariously placed over his crotch. "Hey! Sorry! I mean, what? Hi! Uh…"

"Hi," I squeaked. I quickly realized that my hands were still clamped over my face in an attempt to hide my blush, and forced them back into my lap. "Hi."

"You're—You're here. Like, actually here."

"Yeah…hospital, so…"

"Right! Yes!" He clapped his hands together, momentarily letting go of the balloon. It attempted to escape towards the ceiling, forcing him to frantically capture it once more. "You, uh—You look hungry! Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I'm gonna—I'm gonna go to the vending machine. I'll be right back! So don't—don't go anywhere, I'll just…be back…" He didn't seem to have the mental capacity to finish the sentence. Instead, he let go of the balloon and awkwardly sprinted down the next hallway, almost knocking over several people and attempting to hide the not-so-inconspicuous bulge in his jeans.

I simply watched him run away with wide, terrified eyes. Way to go, Sadie. Perfect. Well done. The first time you speak to him since you kiss him you decide to practically grope him and scare the shit out of him. That won't make things awkward at all.

I sat there staring at the empty hallway for a few minutes before letting my face sink it to my hands. I emitted some weird, strangled noise of frustration, debating whether it would be better to stay in the waiting room like Stiles had said or to go curl up into a ball in Lydia's hospital room and demand to be home schooled. But before I could think of anything more drastic, another voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Well that was almost painful to watch."

I jumped about a foot out of the chair, ready to shriek in surprise. But the sound died in my throat when I recognized the man who had taken up the chair next to me. My jaw dropped open even further, and I frantically looked around to ensure that we weren't drawing attention. Then I fixed my glare on him.

"Derek, what the hell are you doing here?!" I hissed.

He looked supremely calm for a recently accused murderer, lounging in the waiting room with his hands clasped in front of him. Being an Alpha didn't seem to have changed his wardrobe. He still wore the same black T-shirt, black leather jacket, dark jeans. He had a little less scruff than the last time I'd seen him, which made him look younger. Or maybe that was just the playful smirk he had plastered on his face. It was odd to see Derek with any sort of expression besides a scowl, but I had to remind myself that it was possible. At the moment he looked convincingly and thoroughly amused.

"Enjoying the show," he said, and I glared at him.

"What are you doing in public at all? Remember? Derek Hale, number one on Beacon Hills Most Wanted?"

"They pinned the murders on Kate," he dismissed calmly. "It's all over the papers. I've been cleared."

"Just because you're legally cleared doesn't make you look any less guilty," I snapped. "You shouldn't be flaunting your face around town. Especially because of the Argents."

Derek looked like he was exerting a considerable amount of force to not roll his eyes, but he didn't argue. Instead, he changed the subject. "How's your friend?"

"Fine, apparently." I sat back in my chair, attempting to look casual and comfortable even if I wasn't. "She's healing at a nice, human pace. Want to explain that?"

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Derek's jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the arms of his chair. "I don't know," he admitted after a few seconds. "I'll look into it."

"Thanks," I said, but it was half-heartedly. If Derek didn't know what was happening to Lydia, and Dr. Fenris didn't know what was happening to Lydia, I was fairly certain we were never going to find out. The only thing we would be able to do was wait, anxiously anticipating some bad reaction when the full moon came up. I'd have to sit down with Lydia, have a long discussion about the supernatural and the attack, map out all the possible outcomes. We'd have to lock her up and just wait it out, wait for her eyes to flash or her teeth to grow or her claws to sharpen. I thought about the pressure of waiting for that, to find out whether or not my best friend was still human. God, that was going to be torture.

"How are you?" Derek asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I sighed, crossing my arms and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Tired. Human. Peter clawed me pretty good, but not deep enough to cause any lasting damage."

I watched as Derek's jaw locked again, a distant look in his eyes. I felt a pang of guilt shoot through my chest. I didn't plan on sugar coating everything that Peter had done. He'd killed loads of people, Derek's own sister, attacked my best friend. But to Derek he was family, the last family he had left. Peter didn't deserve a shred of sympathy, but Derek did.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. I wasn't sure if it was an apology on behalf of his uncle, or if it was for betraying us to side with him. Either way, it was a moot point.

"Me too. But you could have said that over the phone."

"I thought you weren't supposed to use cell phones in hospitals," he said dryly.

"Cut the bullshit, Derek," I snapped, my sharp tone making him look at me quickly. "You wouldn't have come all the way over here for a personal visit with all of this going on. You're smarter than that."

Derek didn't respond immediately. He just sat there with his hands clenched into fists, staring straight ahead. I'd almost decided to leave him there when he finally spoke up. "I need to talk to you about what happened Friday."

"I figured."

"I know Peter came to talk to you at the school," he said, finally meeting my eye. "What happened?"

"He attacked Lydia," I said, narrowing my eyes.

Derek returned the hard look. "Before that."

I held his gaze for a few seconds before I sighed. "I don't know. He… There was a lot of talk about the Argents, about you toying with my head for your own nefarious purposes, me being some sort of prodigy if I let him turn me…"

"So he offered you the bite?" he asked. I pursed my lips, but nodded, and there were a few seconds of loaded silence. "Why did you say no?"

"Because," I sighed, "that would have given Peter more power. He would have killed Allison's family, and I wasn't going to let that happen."

Derek nodded, and we lapsed into quiet once more. I tried to shake the thoughts of Peter from my head. I had spent so much time replaying the conversation in my head over the last few days, wondering how things might have turned out differently if I hadn't given him the answer I had. But Lydia was awake now. There was no point in second guessing myself. Everything had turned out fine.

"I'm the Alpha now," Derek said suddenly. I turned to look at him, but he was still glaring ahead, eyes fixed on a small point as if he didn't want to meet my eyes. "The Argents are going to come at me for revenge."

"Then maybe you should just lay low for a while," I offered, but something about his voice made an uneasy feeling grow in my stomach. "No more hospital visits."

"I don't need to hide," he growled, and his hands tightened on the arms of his chair. "I need to fight. I need to be more powerful." I sank back slightly in my chair, more than a little uncomfortable about the ferocity of his voice. Derek sensed the motion, finally turning to look at me and softening slightly. His hands relaxed on the chair, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "That's why I came to talk to you," he admitted. "Peter… He wasn't lying. You're…good." He scrunched up his face slightly, as if saying the cliché, Hallmark words was almost painful for him. "I saw it even you didn't know what was going on yet. You can't see it, but you have potential. And I know this probably isn't the…_ideal_ time to ask…"

"You are not serious right now."

Derek looked up quickly. "What?"

"Please tell me you aren't trying to ask what I think you're trying to ask," I begged, shaking my head slightly in disbelief.

Derek glared. "Sadie, the Argents blame me for Kate's death. They're going to try and kill me, and I can't fight them off on my own."

"Then we'll help you," I said. "I'm not just going to stand by and let the Argents kill you, Derek."

"I don't need a bunch of teenagers who _think_ they know how to protect themselves," he spat. "What I need is a pack. You, Scott… I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could handle it. I can help you control it."

I could hear the anger and frustration in his voice, trembling as he tried to stay in control. I couldn't believe he'd decided to have this conversation in the hospital of all places. It was one place that definitely reminded me of all of the drawbacks of the bite, the dangers of getting involved with werewolves. Then again, maybe it was supposed to remind me how much I had to lose if I couldn't step up and protect my friends. I certainly hadn't been able to protect Lydia. Or maybe he was just that desperate. He didn't know where else to find me, and he clearly felt there was cause for immediate action. But was that true? I hadn't had any news from Allison, from anyone really. Caring for Lydia had left me almost completely uninformed, and that was hardly the best state to be in when making important decisions. I wanted to help Derek, obviously, but even if he was right, there were some points of my argument against the bite that still stood.

"Derek, I can't."

"Why not?" he demanded.

I tore my look away from him, running a distressed hand through my hair. "The Argents aren't the only reason I didn't take the bite. Obviously I'm not a fan of the idea of getting gunned down, but it's more than that. Learning to control this has—has taken over Scott's life. He doesn't talk to his mom, he's struggling with Allison at best, he's gonna get left back a year at the rate his grades are dropping. I'm not putting my family through that. I don't know how I'd tell my mom that I decided to put myself constantly at risk of being _cut in half_ just because of what I am, not after we lost my dad, or—or making Stiles go through this as one of the only humans left, cause I don't see you revving to bite him…"

"Oh, so this is about Stiles?" Derek snapped, rolling his eyes.

"No, Derek, this is about you!" He immediately turned to look at me in confusion, and I winced my eyes shut. I hadn't meant for it to come out as an accusation, wanted to build up to it as a successive point, but there was really no going back now. "It's…just something else I've been thinking about…now that you're the Alpha…" Derek didn't speak, but I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head, waiting for me to go on. "You're the only person who's ever heard of the cure—that killing the Alpha that bit you could save you. I mean, Stiles and I have done tons of reading, and Dr. Fenris has done a lifetime of research and never heard of it once."

"And I come from a family of actual werewolves," Derek defended. "I think I know a little more about the subject."

"No, you're right. Of course. It's not that I think you're lying or… I don't _want_ to think you're lying, but… Even you said that you weren't sure if it would work. If killing Peter would cure Scott."

"So what are you saying?"

I sighed, trying to choose my words carefully. "It's just…you do know a lot more about werewolves than we do. And you obviously knew that if Scott killing Peter didn't cure him, then it would've done the exact same thing it did to you. Scott would be an Alpha, and…you'd still be a beta… And—And I know that you killed Peter because you wanted to avenge your sister, I get that, but…part of me wonders if you were ever really going to risk letting Scott kill the Alpha in the first place…"

Derek didn't respond. I hadn't really expected him to. How do you respond to an accusation like that? I wasn't even really sure whether or not I believed it myself. But the possibility had been nagging at me ever since we'd found out that Peter had killed Laura for her powers—that killing and Alpha automatically made you one. I'd buried my doubts under my trust, but in the end, Derek still hadn't let Scott kill the Alpha. Maybe it was an unrelated point. Maybe Derek didn't think Scott was capable of killing. Maybe Derek just couldn't stand by and watch someone else kill the last member of his family. Maybe he felt responsible, and felt it was his duty to it himself. But the reason didn't really matter. Taking Peter's life was Scott's only hope for being a teenage boy again, for getting his life back without the threat of the Argents hanging over his head. But Derek hadn't even given him a chance.

"I still want to help you," I said softly, after what could have been seconds or an hour of silence. "But not as part of your pack."

I was afraid of what kind of response I might get—terrified in fact—but a few seconds later Derek nodded. "Yeah. That's what I thought. But I wanted to ask." His voice was gentler than I would have thought possible. It was odd hearing such a tone come from such a big, rough looking guy, with his scruff and his leather jacket. But the contrast made me smile slightly, albeit sadly.

The heavy silence was broken by an almighty crash, making both Derek and I jump slightly. I spun in my chair, trying to locate the sound of shattering glass. My eyes landed on the hallway that Stiles had disappeared in and I shook my head, disbelieving smile stretching over my face. "Seriously, Stiles?" Derek gave a half-snort of amusement behind me. I looked back to him, rolling my eyes.

"I hope she's okay," he said after a moment.

I followed his eyes to Lydia's hospital door, and my smile tightened slightly. "She will be."

Derek nodded again, drumming his fingers on his knee. I wished I could laugh about seeing him actually look uncomfortable and awkward for once, instead of broody and unemotional, but knowing that I'd been the cause of it zapped all the enjoyment out of the situation. "Let me know if anything changes," he said, standing up. "I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you." Derek began to walk away, making my stomach seize up. "Really," I blurted, causing him to pause mid-stride and look back at me. I held his gaze from under my lashes, not completely sure how to handle the situation but desperate to convey as much as I could. "Thank you, Derek."

He gave a firm nod. Then he stuck his hands deep into his jacket pockets and continued on his path out of the hospital. I watched his back recede down the hallway, a slight feeling of guilt gnawing at my insides. I knew that was irrational though. I was completely justified in my reasons for refusing the bite. I knew that Derek was lonely. Yes, he needed a pack for power, but he also needed a pack for family. I wanted to help him, but not at the cost of my own family. I wouldn't be able to lie to my mother about something like that, and how could I decide to make myself an even bigger target for the Argents when it hadn't even been a year since my father died? Mom wouldn't be able to handle it if I died, I knew it. And it wouldn't help that my own death was likely to be a lot more gruesome than a bullet to the chest. I was already risking my safety by having the friends I did. I couldn't just paint a target on my chest. It'd cost me my friendship with Allison too. I didn't think her parents would be comfortable with two teenage werewolves in town, both of whom associated frequently with their daughter. And friends and family aside, there was still Stiles. I couldn't let him go back to being the only human. He didn't deserve that burden.

Thinking about Stiles brought my mind back to reality. It'd been the first time I'd spoken to him in days, and I'd woken him up from what seemed to be a very good dream about…me. I could feel my face heating up with a flush at the thought, and glanced down the hallway he had escaped down once more. What was I supposed to say when he got back? Did I pretend I hadn't noticed? Did I call him out on it? Guess that was as good a way as any to segue into the fact that we'd kissed.

Unfortunately, I never got to find out what he would have said when he got back.

A high-pitched scream ripped through the semi-quiet air of the hospital, making everyone in the general vicinity pause in their actions. I knew that voice. I knew that terrified shriek, and it shot panic right through my core, wiping every other thought from my mind.

"Lydia?!" I jumped out of my chair so quickly that I managed to throw all of the chairs askew. I sprinted to her door, wrenching it open and forcing my way into the bathroom mere seconds later.

But it was already too late. I whipped my head back and forth, turned on the spot, inspecting every corner of the room. The bathroom was perfectly empty. White, spotless, plain, just like everything else. The shower was still running, but I could tell by the lack of shadows on the shower curtain that nobody was inside. But I was desperate. I ran over, still screaming her name. I tore the curtain aside and fell to my knees next to the tub, paddling my arms through the clear water as if I might pull her invisible body from under the surface. But she wasn't there.

A pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders, dragging my dripping arms out of the water and forcing me away from the shower. I fought them for a moment, kicking and thrashing, until I finally realized who it was.

"Sadie! Sadie, hey, it's okay! It's me," Stiles consoled, wrapping his hands around my wrists so I would stop hitting him. "Are you okay?!"

"Lydia…"

The shower turned off, and I blinked, looking around the room. Mrs. McCall and Mr. Martin had piled into the room after us, both of whom looked extremely confused and worried. I turned back to Stiles, whose maple eyes were boring into mine with concern.

"Lydia…she's gone…I—I heard her screaming and…" I broke off, rapidly becoming frantic again. Stiles's eyes flicked past me, and I turned on the spot to follow his gaze.

The solitary window in the room had been wrenched open, letting a frigid breeze into the room from the dark night outside. I just stared at it for a few seconds, trying to process what could have happened. She'd been fine. She'd been perfectly fine. Until I left her alone…

My vision started to blur. I could feel myself trembling and I took a huge, shaking breath. And then Stiles was wrapping his arms around my shoulders again, pulling me to his chest as I broke down.

I'd had Lydia back for less than a day, and now my best friend was gone.

* * *

**A/N: I'm baaaack! Muahaha! So this wound up being a super long chapter. I'm still getting back into the swing of writing Sadie. I love her to death, and I'm not sure if everything's going right as of now, but I'm trying and I wanted to put this up. Thank you all so much for being so patient with me, for following and favoriting and reading even while I was taking a break. I never expected this amount of interest when I started, never dreamed I'd actually have the inspiration to complete a story, let alone work on a sequel. I'm more than a tad nervous about living up to your expectations, to my own expectations, but I'm going to try my best.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think!**

**Much love,**

**Brittney**


	2. Chapter 2

Time was passing in a blur again. Mr. Martin had been yelling about the hospital security. I had started crying again. Mrs. McCall had urged Stiles to take me out of the bathroom, away from the scene, and so he'd gently pulled me back to the waiting room. Mom and Miss Eleanor had shown up not long after that. Mom looked like she wanted to hug me, but when Mrs. Martin burst into tears she'd had to stop everything to take care of her instead. I just sat quietly in my chair, shivering in my soaked sweater and mechanically wiping tears from my face with already wet sleeves.

Stiles hadn't left my side. The only time he had moved more than a few feet away was to make a few calls—one to his father, and one to Scott. Then he had planted himself firmly in the seat next to me. He'd tried consoling me, assuring me that we were going to find Lydia and figure out what happened and that everything was going to be okay. But he wasn't convincing in the slightest. His voice was shaky, and his knee was bouncing wildly, like it always did when he was nervous. He could have been the greatest actor in the world and I wouldn't have believed him.

It wasn't long before the police showed up. They were buzzing in and out of Lydia's room, canvassing the bathroom for clues, scanning all of the hallways for any sign of her. They had to interrogate all of us too. Mom had her arm around Miss Eleanor as they repeatedly told everyone that they had been in the cafeteria. Mr. Martin was bickering with every officer that tried to talk to him, demanding to know why the officers were harassing him instead of searching the town for his daughter. And I just kept reciting the same phrases over and over to anyone that asked. Lydia had woken up a few hours ago. The doctors said she was fine. Everything had seemed fine. Nothing unusual. She had slept. She had refused help getting in the shower. I waited for her outside. Lydia screamed. The bathroom was empty when I got there. The shower was still running. The window was open. No, I had no idea what might have caused her to run. I had no idea where she'd gone. The only time I said anything different had been when I was talking to Sheriff Stilinski.

"She sounded so scared," I whispered, biting my lip hard and letting my nails dig into my forearms.

The sheriff had rubbed my arm in a failed attempt to comfort me. He pulled a reluctant Stiles a few yards away, towards my mother. They conversed in hushed voices while I stared blankly at the flecked tile floor. A few seconds later, my mom approached me, Stiles awkwardly shuffling behind her. She rested one hand on my shoulder, the other tucking a neglected strand of hair behind my ear.

"Sweetheart, Stiles is gonna drive you home," she said, her thumb presumably wiping away silent tears as it brushed over my cheek. "I know you're worried about Lydia, but you've been here for days. I promise Ellie and I will call you as soon as we hear anything okay?" I just nodded, too tired to reply or protest. Mom sighed, pulling me into a tight hug and brushing my hair gently. I heard her whisper some thanks to Stiles, who quietly replied that it wasn't any trouble. He'd get me home safe. And then he grabbed my hand and coaxed me out of the hospital.

The night was freezing cold. I shivered, then instantly felt guilty. Lydia was running around the woods, presumably scared out of her mind by God knows what, and she didn't even have any clothes. Who was I to feel cold when my best friend was lost, wandering outside in the dead of winter?

Stiles pulled me over to the Jeep, tapping his hands madly against his legs. He swung the passenger door open, guiding me over the passenger seat and into the back. I crossed my legs, staring at his T-shirt as he lingered in front of me.

"Are we going home?" I asked quietly. My voice sounded broken and weak, like I was some four year old who scraped her knee at the park. It was pathetic.

"No," he sighed, running a hand over his head. "I called Scott, and he's gonna be here any minute. I have to go back inside, try and steal the hospital gown Lydia was wearing. Scott's gonna track her scent. I just… Just stay in the car, okay? Lock the doors, hide in the back, just…" He sighed again, fiddling with the car keys in his hands. "I'll be right back. Promise." I nodded, just barely moving my head. "Are you gonna be okay?" Another nod.

There were a few seconds of silence in which neither of us moved. I could feel Stiles watching me, but I couldn't bring myself to reciprocate. I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything.

"Hey," he said softly. He reached forward, catching one of my hands from my lap and finally forcing me to meet his gaze. I looked up at him from under my lashes, watched as he pursed his lips, trying to look resolved. "We're gonna find her. Okay?"

I swallowed thickly. I knew I couldn't just let myself zone out. Scott, Stiles and I had the best chance of finding her, and were some of the few people who actually knew what was going on. I had to snap out of it. I needed to find Lydia. "Yeah. I know."

"Okay," Stiles said, lips tightening into an expression that only vaguely resembled a bracing smile. "Okay. I'll be right back. Lock it behind me."

I nodded and pushed myself up on my knees so I could lean forward and lock the passenger door. Stiles didn't move immediately. He stood outside the Jeep, anxiously peering through the window at me as if he expected me to begin hyperventilating. It was probably a valid concern, but I rolled my eyes, waving him away until he finally scurried back into the hospital.

I picked at the edges of my jeans for a few seconds, trying to ignore the unsettling silence. Remembering my earlier conversation with Derek, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, opening a new text message.

_"Lydia's gone. Escaped from the hospital. We don't know where she went."_

I bit my lip as I sent the message, then lapsed back into idle silence, flipping my phone over and over in my hands. I was only able to toss it for a few seconds before the screen lit up again. I jumped slightly, but the message wasn't from Derek. It was from Scott.

_"Hey. I'm here."_

I raised my eyebrows, peering out the car window to find Scott standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. He waved slightly, and jogged over to the car. I leaned forward to unlock the Jeep, sitting back as he climbed in the passenger side.

"Didn't want to knock?"

"I didn't want to scare you," he said softly, closing the door and turning in his chair. I threw him a small smile of appreciation, settling back into my seat. "Are you okay?"

I just stared at him for a second, pressing my lips into a tight line. I was so past the point of caring whether or not I was okay. That didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping Lydia safe. "I just need to find her."

"We will," he assured me. "I promised I wasn't going to let anything happen to you guys, remember?"

Scott let us lapse back into silence, anxiously waiting Stiles's return. It was several minutes, and I was growing impatient, but I knew I couldn't blame him. He was trying to steal evidence so we could find her before his father and the rest of the police force would. I knew that couldn't be easy.

Finally though, Stiles emerged out of the building, looking sketchily around as he walked in an overly casual way. He wrenched the door open, hopping swiftly into the front seat and handing Scott the scrunched up ball of fabric that had been Lydia's hospital gown.

"This is the one she was just wearing?" he asked. Stiles nodded, his eyes flicking from the gown to me. Scott turned to look at me too, evidently noticing how my eyes were glued to the large spot of blood staining the front of the fabric. He quickly moved it out of sight, breaking me out of my trance. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again."

I just nodded, shaking my head slightly in a feeble attempt to rid myself of my worries. Stiles cleared his throat. "Okay, just shove the thing and your face and let's find her." He turned forward, thrusting the key in the ignition and making the Jeep roar to life. He went to pull out of the space, but as the headlights flashed on, they lit up a figure standing right in front of the car, headed right for us. Stiles jumped with a squawk of surprise. "Wow!"

Allison rolled her eyes, rushing to the passenger side where Scott had rolled the window to down to talk to her. "What are you doing here? Someone's gonna see us."

"I don't care," Allison said. "She's one of my best friends and we need to find her before they do."

"I can find her before the cops can," Scott replied, but Allison didn't relax.

"How about before my father does?"

"He knows?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."

"Search party," Scott murmured, sharing a worried look with Stiles.

"It's more like a hunting party," Allison corrected.

Scott glanced back at me as my stomach clenched, blood turning to ice at the thought. Sure, we didn't know what was really happening to Lydia, but we weren't the only ones who knew she'd been bit. The Argents had let Scott live as an exception, but I doubted they would be so kind to a second werewolf running rampant in town.

"Get in," Scott instructed, swinging the door wide and letting Allison climb over him.

She shot a quick, nervous smile at Stiles before falling into the seat next to me. She wasted no time in throwing her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace that I wasn't entirely prepared for. After a second though, I hugged back as best as I could in the cramped space of the Jeep. It wasn't until Stiles had pulled out onto the road that she released me, but she kept her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eye. "I'm not gonna let my dad hurt her. I promise."

"Yeah, I know… I know."

"How are you holding up?" I gave her a pointed look and her hands slipped from my shoulders. "Sorry, I know. But I felt like I should ask anyway." She nervously straightened the hat on her head, pulled at her cuffs, anything to keep her hands occupied until she broke again a few seconds later. "God, I am—I am so sorry that I haven't come to see you. It's just been insane. I mean, with my dad and Kate…"

"I get it," I cut her off, throat tightening just a bit. "You're not exactly living the easy life either."

"Still," she said, beating her hands gently against her thighs. "I should've tried to stop by. It's just that my dad…"

"Is like crazy protective?" Scott finished for her, briefly raising his head from Lydia's gown as he rolled down the window. Allison's face contorted into what looked like a painful, apologetic smile, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Right, so what's going on between you two?"

Allison's head snapped to me, eyes wide. "What?"

"I've been MIA all weekend," I said, waving a hand. "Clearly I'm missing something. What was Scott saying about not letting people see you together?"

A flicker of pain flashed over Allison's face. She glanced to Scott, but he was dutifully burying his face in the ball of fabric, then sticking his head out the window. "My parents agreed to let Scott go," she explained, playing with her fingers in her lap. "Stop hunting him, but… I'm not supposed to be seeing him at all. That's the condition."

"With penalty of death," Stiles commented with a glance over his shoulder. "Like, wolfsbane-bullet-to-the-face death."

My face scrunched up in distaste. "Ouch." Allison nodded morosely, wrapping her arms around her chest. I rested a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we'll figure something out. If you can get over the fact that Scott's a werewolf, you guys can get through anything. We'll find a way around it." Allison nodded, her eyebrows raised innocently. But I noticed how her cheeks started to flush from more than the cold, one hand reaching up to scratch absently at her eyebrow. I narrowed my eyes. "And Scott has totally already been to your house 'finding a way around it' since your dad threatened him, hasn't he?"

Allison bit her lip to hide a smile as her cheeks turned pink, and Scott let out a small choking noise in the passenger seat. Stiles snorted in amusement, punching him in the shoulder before turning back to the road. "That's my boy."

"Obviously," I sighed, a slight smile tugging my lips too.

Scott whirled around in his head, waving his hands defensively. "Hey! It's not like we're not being careful. I just got Allison back and…"

"Oh shut up, Puppy Love," I shot, shoving his shoulder so he'd face front again. "I'm only joking. And as sweet as I think it is that you two are so desperate to be together, I'd rather you stick your head out the window and concentrate." That zapped the good mood right out of the air. Scott gave a dutiful jerk of the head, pressing his nose into the fabric before breathing in the night air once more. Stiles's hands tightened on the steering wheel, and Allison turned to chewing on her thumbnail. "Wait. How does your dad know about Lydia?"

"No idea," she said nervously. "I mean, Scott texted me, but I didn't say anything. They've got eyes everywhere though." I nodded, silently chewing on my bottom lip.

Stiles shot us a glance in the rearview mirror. "Alright, but if she's turning would they actually kill her?"

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything, okay?" Allison sighed, leaning on the back of Scott's seat. "All they say is, 'we'll take after Kate's funeral, when the others get here.'"

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, just as Stiles said, "What others?"

"I don't know," she groaned, "And they won't tell me that either."

"Okay," Stiles sighed, shaking his head. "Your family has some serious communication issues to work on." Allison let out a huff of dry laughter at the obvious understatement, and Stiles glanced to the passenger seat. "Scott, are we going in the right direction?!"

Scott sniffed the air, practically standing in his seat with half his torso out the window. "Take the next right!"

The tires screeched as Stiles fought to oblige, the car jerking around a corner and making Allison and I slide all over the back. He mumbled an apology, but it was unnecessary. I could care less about staying upright. The only thing that mattered was getting to Lydia.

It went on like that for a while, Stiles gradually urging the car faster and faster while Scott hung out the window, hanging on for dear life. Allison and I were dead quiet in the back. She was fidgeting non-stop, but I was completely motionless, tensed up like a spring, ready to jump at a moment's notice. But it wasn't until we crossed into the woods that either of us spoke.

"Left," I said suddenly, making everyone turn to look at me.

"What?" Stiles asked. "Left? Why left?"

"She's going to Derek's." It was the only explanation I could imagine. This part of the forest, at least, was eerily familiar, not too far from the path Kate had used to get us to the Hale mansion just a few nights ago. And if something supernatural was driving Lydia to run, it would make sense that it would take her to one of the most supernatural places in town.

Stiles looked to Scott for confirmation, and with one last sniff, he nodded. Stiles floored it, glad to have a destination in mind instead of anxiously awaiting directions. We flew in between trees, over the endless piles of dead, decaying leaves that swirled in front of the headlights in the dark. Thankfully, Stiles seemed to know exactly where to go, because in a few minutes he had stopped the car.

We didn't pull right up to the house. For one it might have scared her off, but we also knew that we weren't the only people looking for her. Stiles's Jeep was too recognizable to leave just anywhere, so we parked a good distance away and then decided to continue on foot. Stiles helped Allison and me out of the Jeep, and then Scott took the lead, still sniffing the air in an attempt to follow Lydia's scent. Stiles stayed close to my side, glancing behind us to make sure we weren't being followed and letting his had dart out to steady me every time he thought I was in danger of tripping.

It only took us a few minutes to get there. The Hale house was still twisted and blackened against the night sky, exactly as it had been Friday night. It was as if nothing had even happened. Scott and Allison wandered into the clearing, but I froze on the edge, staring blankly up at the house. Stiles stopped short when he realized that I had frozen, looking back at me with concern. When I didn't move, he stepped in front of me, turning his back on the manor.

"You gonna be okay?"

I blinked a few times, forcing myself to nod. "Yeah, yeah. It's just…weird. Coming back here."

"I know. But he's dead. No worries."

I bit my tongue. I almost wanted to snap at him that we still had plenty to worry about—Lydia, Derek, the Argents and "the others." Just because Peter and Kate were gone didn't mean our problems were over. But I didn't want to yell at him. I knew he was just trying to help. So instead, I grabbed his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, and we followed Allison and Scott closer to the house.

"So she came here?" Stiles asked, eyeing the house warily. "You're sure?"

Scott nodded, eyes darting back and forth across the yard. "Yeah. This is where the scent leads."

"Alright, but has Lydia ever been here?"

"Not with me," Allison said.

Stiles turned to me and I shook my head. "Absolutely not. This is probably the last place I'd ever bring her." He tossed his head to the side in agreement before inching forward into the clearing, scrutinizing the forest floor for clues. I was about to do the same when Allison spoke up.

"Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek."

"You mean looking for an Alpha?" I asked, my stomach pulling tight at the thought.

She threw me an apologetic look, but nodded. "Wolves need a pack, right?" She glanced to Scott.

"Not all of them," he mumbled, fidgeting next to her.

"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha?" Allison pressed. "Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?"

Scott and I shared a look before he answered, remembering all too well the pull that Peter had had on him when he was the Alpha. "Yeah, we're…we're stronger in packs."

"Like strength in numbers?"

I snorted, drawing both Scott and Allison's attention. "If only that was all we had to worry about."

Allison quickly looked to Scott for an explanation. "Uh, no. Not like that. It's like literally stronger, faster, better in every way."

Allison nodded in understanding, but a few seconds later a worried look crossed her face. "Is that the same for an Alpha?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed anxiously. "That'll make Derek stronger too."

My stomach turned slightly as I thought back to my conversation with the werewolf earlier. Power was definitely something Derek was interested in. He wanted Scott and I as a part of his pack, sure, but he was desperate enough to come and ask me in public. I didn't doubt that he'd accept Lydia into his pack if she was turning, even if he wasn't particularly keen on the idea. It was another boost of power, another ally against the Argents. I wasn't sure how worried he would be about the fact that the hunters were looking for her as far as her well being was concerned—hopefully at least a little worried—but he certainly wouldn't want to let a potential resource fall into the wrong hands. At the very least, that meant Derek would be out looking for her too.

"But Lydia's not a wolf," I said, breaking the silence. "So I guess we don't have to worry about that."

Allison and Scott both threw me skeptical looks, but didn't argue. I'd like to think it was because I sounded confident in the assertion, but for the most part, I think they were just worried that disagreeing with me would send me into another mental breakdown. And I wasn't completely sure that assumption was wrong.

"Ooh, hey. Look at this," Stiles called. He had circled around the entire yard, ending in a pile of leaves a few feet behind us. I shot a look to Scott and Allison before shuffling over to him, but he held up an arm to indicate that I shouldn't get too close. "You see this?" he asked, gently twirling his fingers around a thin black wire. It was almost invisible in the dark, precariously stretched out between two trees.

"What is it?" I asked, as Allison stepped up behind me and peered over my shoulder.

"I think it's a tripwire…" Stiles debated for a few seconds before shrugging to himself. I caught up with his thought process just a second too late, and before I could yell at him, he yanked on the wire.

"Stiles!"

"What?" He looked up at me innocently and I tried as best as I could to suppress the urge to slap him.

"You don't just trip a tripwire! You have no idea what it's going to do! It could be dangerous!"

"Oh my God, would you chill? It didn't do anything!"

"Uh, Stiles?" Scott's voice interrupted.

"Yeah, buddy? …Oh…"

Apparently, pulling the tripwire _had_ done something. Scott, who hadn't moved forward to stand with the rest of us, had become an unsuspecting victim, and was now hanging upside down from one ankle. His arms and legs were splayed wide as he swung back and forth, but for the most part he looked unharmed. Really he just looked resigned.

"Shut up and listen to Sadie, okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Stiles agreed, ducking his head. "Noted."

Allison giggled next to me and I rolled my eyes, punching Stiles in the shoulder. "Moron."

"Ow!"

"Oh don't be such a baby."

"Wha-?! I'm not! I have very delicate skin! I bruise easy!" he said as he waved one arm wildly, the other gripping his supposedly wounded shoulder.

I smiled at his antics. "Well thanks. I'll have to keep that in mind for future reference. 'Be gentle.'" Stiles's eyes flew wide, his jaw hanging slightly slack. I quirked an eyebrow, but he just continued to stare at me. It wasn't until I noticed Allison trying to smother her laughter by holding her gloves over her face that I realized what I had said. My jaw dropped. "Oh my God! Stiles! So not what I meant!"

He spluttered and waved his hands around in response. "What?! No! I didn't—I didn't say…!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Scott quickly ended the feud, waving his arms frantically in an attempt to shut us up. We all froze, looking down at him as he narrowed his eyes at the woods. "Someone's coming."

"Someone like who?" I asked quickly.

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. G-Go! Hide!" We all exchanged a look for a moment, more apprehensive about abandoning Scott in the open than anything else. But he didn't seem to care. "_Go_!"

Stiles, Allison and I all scrambled for the trees at his insistence, tripping over each other as we searched for a hiding spot. Allison ducked behind a bush, but it was only big enough for one. I could feel my panic rising before Stiles grabbed me by my waist and pulled me against him, his back pressed into the bark of a large tree. I bit my lip, both from the sudden contact and in an attempt to keep my breathing quiet. I could hear the rustling leaves nearby now, and clenched the hands around my waist. Stiles gave me a reassuring squeeze.

"Scott." That was Mr. Argent's voice, unsurprisingly but still frightening.

"Mr. Argent," Scott replied, his voice slightly strained from the stress of hanging upside down. I tried to lean forward a bit, but Stiles pulled me back. I gave him a pointed look over my shoulder, and for a few seconds we fought silently through a series of widened eyes and raised eyebrows. Finally, he relented, and we both inched just slightly around the tree trunk, so we could peer around the side.

Mr. Argent was standing in front of Scott, crouched down so the two were at eye level. There were two more men behind him, hunters judging by the artillery, who I didn't know. That was unsettling in itself. How many of the strangers in Beacon Hills were actually hunters trained to kill my friends?

"How are you doing?" Allison's father asked, as if he wasn't responsible for dangling a teenage boy upside down in the middle of the woods.

"Good," Scott said, trying to keep the same casual tone. "You know, just…hanging out…" I had to elbow Stiles as he let out a soft snort at the pun. "Is this one of yours? It's, uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting."

"What are you doing here, Scott?"

Stiles and I had to lean forward a little more as their voices got softer, more guarded. "Looking for my friend."

"Ah, that's right," Mr. Argent sighed. "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique? Is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it...? Part of your _pack_?"

"Actually 'clique' sounds about right to me."

"I hope so," Mr. Argent countered. "Because I know she's a friend of Allison's, and one special circumstance—such as yourself? One I can handle. Not two. And certainly not three."

"Three?" Scott asked, legitimately surprised.

"We know that Lydia wasn't the only one the Alpha attacked, Scott. Everyone is a threat."

"Wh-What, Sadie?!" Scott spluttered. Stiles's arms tightened around my waist, pulling me back against his chest so I could no longer see the group. "You think _Sadie_ is a threat?!"

"Scratches can turn people if they're deep enough," Allison's father replied calmly. "And it hasn't gone unnoticed that she hasn't been seen in public since that night."

"Because she's been in the hospital! Taking care of her best friend! She's not a threat!"

"That's what we're hoping. I don't want to be blamed for taking all my daughter's friends away."

"Don't touch her," Scott growled. "Leaver her alone."

There was a beat of silence, then the rustling of leaves as Mr. Argent presumably moved closer to his prey. "Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?"

My stomach lurched, knuckles turning bright white on Stiles's hands. We all knew exactly what that was, and if Allison's father was planning on attempting one, nothing was going to keep me out of that clearing.

"I have a feeling I don't want to," Scott said.

"It's a medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that… Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

We waited to hear a reply, but there was none. A few seconds later we were rewarded with the sound of shuffling leaves—Mr. Argent and his cronies retreating and leaving Scott to dangle in mid air. I immediately went to run around the tree, to find some way to help Scott down, but found that I couldn't move. Stiles had locked his arms around me, gazing down at me with an expression saturated with worry. I softened slightly, resting my hands on his own.

"Stiles, I'm fine," I promised. "We all know I'm not turning, and they're not gonna touch me without proof."

He didn't reply, but after a few more seconds of staring he allowed me to pry his hands off my torso. I grabbed his hand reassuringly, lacing our fingers together and pulling him back towards Scott and Allison. They paused in their conversation, glancing at me warily as we approached.

"Guys, seriously I'm fine. Now how do we get you down from this thing?"

Even upside down Scott still looked a little skeptical, but Allison nodded firmly, accepting my silent request to move past the subject. "Come on. Help me with this." She gestured over my shoulder and then dashed past me, heading for a large tree where the cords of the contraption seemed to converge. Stiles followed after me, bending down to follow the wire from the ground while Allison and I inspected the clamp holding everything together. But before I could even get the slightest idea of how the trap worked, the wire fell slack and there was a soft thump behind us.

We all turned on the spot to find Scott back on his feet, the claws of his right hand extended and catching the moonlight. "Thanks, but… I think I got it."

"Hm…yeah," Stiles mused to my side, glancing back and forth between his friend and the broken trap.

I wrapped my arms around my torso and rolled my eyes. "You know, for professional werewolf hunters that seems like a pretty terrible trap. I mean, sure, you've got the element of surprise, but is it really worth it if it's that easy for them to escape?"

"You want my dad to make his traps more deadly?" Allison asked with a slight smirk.

"No, of course not. Better for us, I'm just saying. Weak."

She shook her head at me, but before she could reply, Scott's voice rang out again. "Uh, guys? You coming?" Instantly my mind was brought back to the present. Lydia.

I nodded vehemently and marched forward, ignoring the pangs of fear and uneasiness in my stomach and walking up the porch steps and into the house.

We ended up splitting into pairs, Allison with Scott and me with Stiles, in an attempt to cover more ground. Scott brought Allison upstairs to check all of the rooms. The house was pretty unstable, and it was unlikely that Lydia would be there, but there was no way we weren't checking.

Stiles and I remained on the ground level. It was heartbreakingly eerie, in a way. Sure, I'd been to Derek's house before, gone inside, but I'd never really looked around. It was strange to walk through each of the rooms, see the scorched remains of what was left, the little clues as to what the room had once been. There was half an upturned table in what used to be the dining room, a few broken chair legs. The hollow shells of burnt cabinets and tabletops were still fairly intact in the old kitchen. That room looked like it might have been a study, this room a spare bedroom. It was more Hale family history than I had been prepared for, and made it hard to push down the memories of Peter and Derek's offers. They'd lost so much…

We checked the basement too, but there was no sign of Lydia. Nothing was down there except the remains of a few wires Kate had been using to torture Derek. Stiles had quickly pulled me back upstairs at that sight, which left us with just one room left. The living room.

I faltered for a few seconds as I walked into the room. Had I been standing here only a few days ago? Watching Peter morph into the monstrous Alpha? Watching Derek and Scott fight him, both fully transformed? Watching Kate die? If I looked closely enough, I could see the dark stain of her blood on the floorboards, the place where she'd fallen after Peter ripped her throat open with his claws. And there was also a large spot on the floor in the center of the room, a wide circle that had been cleared of dust.

"Sadie?"

"Is… Is that…?"

Stiles glanced between me and the floor, his jaw locking in place. "Come on. You don't need to be in here."

"No, no," I said, waving him off and taking a step away from him. "I'm fine, I just… Is that where they buried him?"

Stiles sighed and wiped a hand down his face. Obviously, this was not something he wanted to discuss with me. I understood, but on the other hand, I needed to know. I knew that all of Peter's murders had been pinned on Kate, along with the fire that she had actually caused, but I knew very little about what had actually happened that night. I hadn't gotten the chance to.

"Yeah," he replied finally. "I think it's a family thing. I mean, he tried to bury his sister here too, so…"

I simply nodded in silence. That made sense. After everything that Peter had done, maybe he didn't deserve to lie buried in a graveyard, among the family members of those he'd killed. Then again, were any of the Hales buried in a cemetery? Were any of them buried at all? Maybe it was even more of a favor to Peter to allow his body to stay under the house he'd burned in, the same place where his family had died—the ones he'd betrayed in an effort to avenge them. I hadn't known Laura, but I wasn't sure I was comfortable having his body buried in the same place she had been. Part of me wanted to insist that Peter earned nothing more than to rot in some unknown hole in the middle of the woods where no one would ever know him, where people could walk over his grave irreverently and animals could shit on the dirt above him. But another part—albeit a smaller one—reminded me that he had been Derek's only living family. And really, it'd been hard for Derek to kill him as he had. They'd even worked together for a time because, while Peter had no excuse for killing Laura, on the whole he'd thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was killing the people who had murdered his family for justice, because next to bringing his family back, that was the best he could do. So maybe he had seemed like a monster. He was still a Hale.

"Come on," Stiles urged after a few seconds. "She's not here. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah… Yeah I guess you're right…"

I followed Stiles back into the front room, turning my back on the traumatic scene and trying to lock the memories away once more. We headed back into the front hall, just as Scott was helping Allison down the stairs. We quietly gathered into a small circle, but it was already pretty obvious what was about to be said.

"There's no sign of her upstairs," Allison said, wrapping her arms around her torso.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, nothing downstairs either."

"But, she was here, right?" I asked, head snapping towards Scott. "She was definitely here?"

"Yeah, she was here," he agreed. "Her scent's all over the place."

"Okay," I said, "well if she's not here, then where did she go next?"

Scott shuffled on his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets. He glanced up at me, around at our friends, and then back to the floor. "That's the thing. I… I don't know…"

"You don't know?" I repeated. "How could you not know? You said you could smell her."

"I can smell her here. But, after that the trail sorta goes cold."

"What do you mean it goes cold?" I asked frantically. "Scott, she can't just stop smelling like herself!"

"I know!" he replied. "But I can't smell it. Her scent's stronger here. She might have been here for a while. But the wind's already starting to blow her scent all around here. If she left, I can't tell which way she went."

There were a few torturous seconds of silence. I forced myself to take deep breaths. Yelling at Scott wasn't going to help anything. He wasn't the reason Lydia was missing, and it wasn't his responsibility to bring her back. I knew he was trying the best he could. But that didn't make me any less desperate. "Okay… Okay, then—then maybe she didn't leave. Right? You—You said _if_ she left, but if there's no trail away then maybe that's because she didn't leave! Maybe she's still here!"

"Sadie," Stiles said softly, amber eyes watching me sadly. "We checked the whole house. She's not here."

"Then what do I do, huh?! What am I supposed to do with myself while my best friend is running around in the woods going out of her fucking mind?!" A stunned hush fell over the house, everyone watching me warily as my chest heaved and I glared Stiles down. But he held firm. He didn't even look the slightest bit angry with me. Stiles at the very least knew how worried I was about Lydia. I softened under his understanding gaze. Even if he was willing to let me yell at him, he didn't deserve it in the slightest. Not after everything he'd done for me over the last few days.

"It's getting late," Allison observed meekly. "I need to get home before my dad realizes I'm gone…"

"So that's it?" I asked, voice trembling as I fought to stay calm. "Just go home? Leave her to wander around in the middle of the winter while we all go to bed?"

"Sadie, she's my friend too," Allison defended. "But we have no idea where she is, or how to find her. And if my dad finds out that I snuck out to help you guys find Lydia, Scott and I are both dead."

"Very dead," Scott agreed. I bit my lip hard, letting my eyes roam around the room as if Lydia would just suddenly wander out. Scott took a step forward and rested his hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. I saw the hurt flash across his face, but he pretended to ignore it. "Sadie, you should go home. I know you don't want to but, there's not a lot you can do out here. I promise I'll find her."

"What about the Argents?" Stiles asked nervously. "I'm not really loving the sound of that whole… hemicorpo-cutty thing."

"Allison's dad already knows I'm out here," he dismissed. "It's just gonna make it worse if he finds out you guys are too. I'll keep looking for Lydia."

"If… If you find anything…" I started, and Scott nodded.

"You'll be the first to know." I wanted to protest, but eventually Scott stared me down. I just couldn't fight against those damn sad puppy eyes.

I moved Scott's hand off my shoulder, pulling him into a quiet hug that hopefully conveyed all of my thanks. Scott rubbed my shoulder reassuringly, then pushed me towards his best friend. I relented, letting Stiles grab my hand and tug me towards the front of the house once more. Allison kissed Scott goodbye, and then scurried after us, leaving Scott alone in the Hale house to search for my best friend.

The walk to the Jeep and the ride home were equally silent. Allison wrapped an arm around my shoulder and sat with me in the back, letting me rest my head on her shoulder. Stiles kept glancing at us in the rearview mirror. It was a little annoying to be watched like a time bomb, but even with everything going on, I could feel the half-hearted butterflies in my stomach whenever he looked at me. Then my stomach would roil with guilt again. Not only was I going home to sleep in my warm bed while Lydia was running naked through the woods, but I was giggling about some boy while I did it.

_"Not until after Lydia's safe,"_ I reminded myself. _"Then you can deal with Stiles. After she's home and safe."_

We dropped Allison off first, but didn't stick around to watch her go inside. Stiles's Jeep was far too distinctive to stall outside of her house when her parents were home. Even if they didn't know she'd left, seeing us outside would be enough cause for suspicion. We drove until we were a few safe blocks away, before Stiles paused to help me climb into the front seat. He still didn't say anything, just sent me a small smile and put on the radio, letting me curl up and look out the window without worrying about keeping up a conversation.

When we pulled up to my house, I noticed that the cars were still gone. Everyone must still have been down at the hospital. I tried to ignore the feeling welling up in my stomach—that they were all still waiting for information while I went home. I'd already done more for Lydia than any of the adults could have. Or at least, that's what I was trying to tell myself.

Stiles turned the car off and hopped out of the driver's seat, walking around the front so he could open the passenger door for me. I slid out, but kept my head down, staring at the pavement as he shut the door behind me. We walked silently up the driveway, up the steps, up to the front door. There was a long pause.

"Thanks for driving me home," I said quietly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's no problem."

I dug my hand into my purse, fishing my keys out and unlocking the door. Stiles made an awkward coughing sound behind me, and I paused to turn around. He was shuffling his feet, arms behind his back as he stared at the ground in concentration. "Um…you okay?"

He let out a slight puff of air, and forced his head up. "I, uh… I know this might not be the best time, but um… I just… Well, I grabbed this when I got Lydia's hospital gown, because it was sitting on a chair in her room and I saw it so I thought you know why not and I know that you're not feeling great, and this—this totally might not help you feel better but uh… yeah…" He pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing the brown teddy bear he'd left for me in the hospital while I was sleeping. A smile began to tug at the corners of my lips, watching the way Stiles's fingers tugged nervously at the bear's _"Thinking of You"_ T-shirt.

"Thank you, Stiles." I reached out and accepted the stuffed animal, tugging it against my chest.

He shoved one hand deep into his pocket, and the other one reached up to scratch self-consciously at the back of his neck. "Yeah, you know, I mean it's just something… I don't expect, you know—it's just…a thing…"

"Really, Stiles," I assured him, full grin now sliding onto my face. "I love it. Thanks."

He smiled and nodded jerkily. "Well I'll just, uh…" He twitched for a few seconds before stepping forward and pulling me into a hug.

Hugging Stiles always felt like a release for me, reassuring me whenever I was feeling the slightest bit down. He wrapped one arm around my waist, the other around my shoulders, carefully placing himself so that he wasn't putting the slightest bit of pressure on the slices on my shoulder. My arms were currently occupied by the stuffed bear, so I just pulled them against my chest and buried my head into his shoulder. I could feel his breath tickling the hair on the back of my neck, and his thumbs rubbed soothing circles against my sweater. I'm not quite sure how long the hug lasted, how long was spent in silence before Stiles broke it, but when he finally spoke up I noticed I'd been silently crying into his shirt again.

"We're gonna find her, you know. Everything's gonna be okay."

I pulled back, sniffling, but Stiles didn't let go of my waist. He stared down at me in earnest, willing me to believe his words, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't. Not even with those maple eyes watching me carefully. He tentatively lifted his hand, thumb brushing over my cheek and wiping my tears away. My stomach tumbled, and I forced myself to step back completely.

"I'm, uh… I'm gonna attempt to get some sleep."

Stiles blinked. "Right, yeah. I mean, good."

"If you uh… You know, if your dad…"

"I'll call you," he agreed, nodding firmly and shoving both his hands back into his pockets. "I'll let you know if I hear anything. Just try and get some rest."

"Okay, I'll just…uh…"

Stiles took a backwards step away from the door with a solemn but understanding smile. "Night, Bennet."

I let out a soft sigh of relief. "Yeah. Night, Stilinski."

I quickly ducked into the house, closing the door behind me and locking it. I took a few deep breaths before moving to the window. I peered out the corner, trying to remain unseen as I watched Stiles scuff his way back to the Jeep, climb inside, and then drive off. I let out the breath I'd been holding, either from relief that our first, awkward, post-kiss interaction was over, or nerves from being in the dark house by myself. I wasn't always afraid of the dark. But it was the first time I'd been truly and completely alone since the night of the formal, and I couldn't help but feel jumpy as I turned to face the darkness. I quickly went around the building, checking that all of the doors and windows were locked. Locks wouldn't do much to fend off werewolves, but it made me feel a tiny bit better nonetheless.

I changed into a T-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants, brushed my hair up into a ponytail, brushed my teeth, just pretending everything was normal. But when I got back to my room, I just stood there and stared at the bed. The sheets were all neatly tucked in. Overly neatly, as if my mom had made my bed about five times since I was away. Maybe sleeping in my own bed would help. Maybe I would be able to pretend that everything was just fine. Maybe…

But I knew that that wasn't true. Sleeping in my own bed, with Lydia wandering out in the woods alone, all while it was my fault, that would just be wrong. I would stay up all night, tossing and turning in the sheets, just thinking about how wrong everything had gone. So instead, I walked right back out of my room. I walked down the hallway and paused in front of Lydia's door. I almost knocked, before remembering that no one was home to hear me. I let myself inside, closing the door behind me and looking around.

It was almost the same as Friday night. There was still a handful of bobby pins scattered over Lydia's vanity, her clothes still slightly rustled in her closet. Her bed was made, but it wasn't as neat as mine. There were wrinkles and pits in the fabric, as if someone had repeatedly sat down all over the mattress. Evidently, I wasn't the only one who'd had this idea.

I padded into the room, reverently pulling the covers back and tucking myself into Lydia's bed. I just stayed completely motionless, breathing deeply. I could feel the tingling in my limbs, the heaviness of my head, the stinging behind my eyes as I teetered on the edge of completely losing it. My vision began the blur, the edges of the pillow next to my face becoming less and less defined until it was just a blob of color. But then, before I could properly break down, there was a bright light shining through the darkness.

I blinked the tears forming in my eyes, struggling to adjust as my hands fumbled through the sheets, looking for my phone. I opened the new text message, barely registering that it was from Derek.

_"I'll find her."_

That was all it said. Just three words. But just the same, knowing that there was someone out there still looking for Lydia, that Derek still cared enough to help, eased the knot in my stomach. My breathing returned to normal, and as the tension left my body, I realized that I was completely and utterly exhausted. From sleeping at the hospital, from searching for Lydia, from worrying, from blaming myself. I was completely drained.

I locked my phone and slid it back into the sheets next to my head, close enough that if someone tried to call me with news, I would wake up. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and curled up in a ball on my side, arms wrapped tightly around the stuffed bear against my chest. I buried my face in its fur, taking comfort in its smell, in its warmth, in the sheets surrounding me, in Derek's text message. I focused all my energy on that bear, until finally I was able to drift off into sleep.

**A/N: Whee! So there you have it! Chapter 2. A little more Sadles in this one to sate your desires, I hope. And I'm so glad to be publishing again. Getting loads and loads and loads of email alerts as people followed and favorited the sequel, recognizing all the old familiar pen names and reading the new ones, just was one of the best feelings to come back to. As were all of your lovely reviews. Thank you to AppoloniaAstria, XLostxinxWonderlandX314, DetectiveKateTodd, E, Guest, Emmalee Adams, becca1130, X23 Maximoff, a. Paper. heaRt, Skittleslover3, easythrowaway, RedRoses5, Hanna, Ash B Bramble, Nelle07, happy-in-oz, SpicyPepper-SweetSugar, winchesterxgirl, YelloSubmarine93, Rain2012, Bookie, Valkyrie101, tvdxobssessed, Lucy Greenhill, GorditaBossinova, maddie, Guezzzd, blahicantthinkofaname (whose review totally didn't make me tear up who told you that hush), Taffyrose, kenhat, tyler.x, Charlie Cheesecake for your unbelievably adorable and kind PM, and of course the ever-wonderful kaljara, emele807, MessintheMirror, prettyargents, and LionHeartMisfits. I'm so blessed to have you guys.**

**To those of you who celebrate it, Happy Thanksgiving! I just wanted to take a minute and tell you all just how thankful I am to have you all in my life. This story has been so much more successful than I ever imagined, and it's hard to believe I started watching this show over the summer just because I had some time to kill. This story has given me some of the coolest and loveliest friends, it's given me a reason to practice writing, and it gives me a sort of sense of purpose. I love each and every one of you all so much, and I can't thank you enough.**

**Can't wait to hear what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning I woke up completely disoriented. Sunlight was prying my eyes open before I had pulled my hangings back, and there was a hand gently shaking my shoulder from the side of my bed that should have been the wall. I blearily opened my eyes and blinked rapidly, groaning at the pain in my head. But that was the consequence of excessive crying.

"Hey there, sweetie," Mom said softly. She lifted some of the hair out of my face, brushing it back as I rolled over to face her. "You finally get some sleep?"

"I guess," I mumbled. I batted her hand aside and ran my fingers through my mess of hair, trying in vain to tame the fly-aways.

Mom smiled sadly before throwing her legs up onto the bed so she could lie next to me. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder, letting me rest my head on her chest as she played with my hair. "How are you feeling?" I lifted my head just a fraction to give her a pointed look. "Yeah, okay. Stupid question."

"Has…Has anyone…?"

Her arms tightened around me. "No. No word yet. But there will be soon. Sheriff Stilinski's organizing search parties to go looking for Lydia today. We'll get her home." I lowered by head back onto her shoulder, eyes tracing the complex floral pattern of her T-shirt. She twirled a strand of my hair around her finger and then rubbed my good shoulder. "How about this? I will go make us some cinnamon rolls, and then we can sit around in our pajamas and watch old cartoons, huh?"

I smiled slightly, but my eyes slid up to the clock. "I can't," I said, reluctantly pushing myself up into a sitting position. "I'm gonna be late."

"Sorry?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you have a hot date or something?"

"Mom…"

"No! Totally cool. Though I don't really think the Sheriff's gonna be thrilled about Stiles missing school."

"Well, that's not going to be a problem," I said firmly, "seeing as we will both be attending school as normal."

Mom chuckled at my insistence, but the happiness soon faded away. She looked at me cautiously, like some kind of wounded animal. "Are you sure you're ready to do this, honey? I mean, your shoulder's still wrapped up and Lydia's not home. People are gonna want to know what happened. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to stay home."

I slumped my shoulders forward, fingers picking at the blanket distractedly. "I don't want to miss school…"

She rolled her eyes. "Sadie, I skipped school more in a semester than you have in your entire life. And I never had a reason as good as hospitalization."

I forced a quiet chuckle out of my throat and made my hands to come to a stand still. I stretched my arms in front of me, splayed my fingers over the blankets and tried to hold all my memories of the room at bay. "It's not just school. I… I don't think I could sit around at home, you know? It's like, if I'm here, then shouldn't Lydia be too? But she's not and then every second I'm just—I'm waiting for her to walk around the corner and she doesn't and then I remember and…it's like finding out all over again… At least at school there's a distraction from the—the glaringly obvious empty space where she's supposed to be."

Mom watched me for a few minutes in silence. She leaned forward, resting her left hand on top of mine. Her wedding ring seemed cold against the back of my hand. "You know none of this is your fault, Sadie. You had no idea that thing was going to attack you. We're gonna find Lydia and it's gonna be okay."

My stomach dropped as my mother said the exact worst words she possibly could have. I clenched my teeth, trying to force back the stinging sensation behind my eyes. "Do you mind if I take the van?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" she asked hopefully, and I nodded.

"Just in case I decide I need to come home early. And you know…if they find Lydia in the time it takes me to get from here to school… I mean, I love Miss Eleanor and all but she…"

"…has other people she'd call before you," she finished, nodding sagely. "And you want someone who's gonna call you right away. I got it."

I offered her a feeble smile. "Thanks, Mom."

She grinned back, but it was saturated with a sadness that sent a shard of guilt right through my heart. "I love you, you know that?" She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and my eyes closed briefly. "The last year has been so…_colossally_ difficult, and to see you keeping your head up as if this is all normal… I don't know. It just reminds me how strong you really are. And I'm really proud of you."

I swallowed thickly, flipping the one hand she'd covered so I could hold her own. "I love you too, Mom."

"Well I would certainly hope so," she said, effectively breaking the building, sappy tension in the room. "And if you're going to insist on going to school, then I'm going to insist on at least making you a bagel or something. No pain meds on an empty stomach."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay."

"I'll see you downstairs in a bit, hun."

She left Lydia's door open behind her and I wiped my hands down my face. Part of me never wanted to leave the comfort of Lydia's bed. I just wanted to be surrounded by some sort of reminder of her, as if I could fool myself into believing she wasn't really gone. But at the same time I knew that would drive me insane. There was no way I could fool myself into thinking she was home, safe and sound. Staying at home would only give me more of an opportunity to drown in my misery and guilt, and I'd had quite enough of that over the last few days. I had to get up. I had to move. I had to do something.

I eventually dragged myself up and made Lydia's bed, closing the door behind me like I was trying to preserve everything Lydia from contamination from the rest of the house. I wandered back to my room, changing into a pair of skinny jeans tucked into black combat boots. Then I threw on a T-shirt and a blazer—something that allowed me to be comfortable while also doing a pretty good job at hiding the bandages on my shoulder. But the bandages were easier to deal with than the sling had been. At least now I could put makeup on. My mom did make me eat my whole bagel before she let me take my pain medication, but then I was able to escape out to the car and head towards the doom that was Beacon Hills High School.

I kept the radio on low, but didn't have the energy to even hum along to my favorite songs. It was just white noise, something to keep my brain awake and occupied so I wouldn't drift into a panicked state about Lydia once more. I turned it off when I pulled into a parking space, but didn't move for several seconds. I didn't technically have to go to school. Mom was obviously okay with me skipping. Maybe I could just take the car somewhere else, away from all memories of Lydia and any prying eyes who wanted to know what happened. But I shook that thought off as soon as it came to me. Mom would have a meltdown if I didn't show up to school after I left, and definitely wouldn't want me going off on my own when Lydia had just gone missing and we'd both been attacked. But at the same time, I wasn't sure I was ready to face the sea of inquisitive eyes that would wash over me the moment I walked through the door.

And then, as if in answer to my doubts, my eyes landed on the one thing that instantly made me feel more secure. Stiles and Scott were walking down the path to the school. They had their heads ducked low, glancing around as they conversed in low voices. I hadn't heard from Scott the night before, which assumedly meant that he hadn't found any clues about Lydia's whereabouts, but that was okay. Even just being around people who knew what was really going on, who could understand the extent of my worry and were trying to help—would be a relief.

I climbed out of the car, swinging my bag up onto my free shoulder before locking the car and striding towards the sidewalk. I tried to keep my chin up, my walk normal, projecting an air of confidence to my curious classmates. I wasn't bombarded with a wall of questions. Rather, I felt like the tide of the crowd was moving around me, ebbing away every time I took a step closer. Like repelled magnets, everyone seemed to be trying to avoid getting too close to me. Except of course Scott and Stiles, who didn't even notice my presence until I was walking in stride with them.

"It's the most nutritious part of the body," Stiles was saying to Scott as I came up on his other side.

"The liver?"

Scott's eyes doubled in size when he noticed me, and Stiles jumped about a foot in the air, squeaking in surprise and waving his arms awkwardly. "Holy mother of…!"

"Are we talking about zombies or Hannibal Lector?" I asked with a smirk. But neither of them laughed. Instead, they just started at me as if they'd seen a ghost, completely immobile and sheet white. I cocked an eyebrow. "Zombie-Hannibal Lector?"

"Sadie!" Stiles hissed, glancing around before narrowing his eyes at me. "What—What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Learning, so the state tells me. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Do I—Do I have a—? Yes! Yes I do! I—I—I have a giant, humongous, freaking huge problem with that! Why aren't you at home?!"

"Because we have school," I said with a shrug.

Stiles glared fiercely. "Yeah, and you have a slashed up shoulder that put you in the hospital for the whole weekend! You—You should not be in school!"

"Look," I sighed. "I'm not just sitting at home. Apparently your dad's trying to get people to sign up for search parties to look for Lydia, and I am not going to let that ride on Finstock's ability to remember to make announcements. I'm at least gonna ask everyone to keep an eye out for her. Not like I can really do anything else…"

Scott's hands twisted his backpacks traps nervously. "Sadie, I'm sorry. I tried really hard but…"

"Scott, it's fine," I cut him off, shaking my head slightly. "Really. Now what was this talk about livers?" The two shared a long sideways glance at each other before glancing warily at me. I narrowed my eyes. "You two wouldn't be hiding anything from me, right? Not after you both promised to tell me straight away if you heard anything?"

"Well, it doesn't necessarily have to do with Lydia," Stiles defended, brandishing a finger at me.

"Great, then there's no reason to feel like you have to hide it."

"Wha-? Well, y-yeah, but—but you know it _could_ be related to Lydia."

"All the more reason for you to tell me right now."

Stiles opened his mouth, but then quickly snapped it shut. He glanced helplessly at Scott, slumping forward in defeat. The werewolf winced, then raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "There was a grave robbery last night."

"Okay," I prodded. "A little weird, but so what?"

"Stiles's dad was investigating it this morning, but they didn't take anything of value. No jewelry, clothes, nothing."

"Then why are you calling it a grave robber—?" I trailed off as the reality of the situation slowly set in, my insides all turning to lead. "The liver… They took the—the liver?!" Scott simply nodded, sharing another quiet look with Stiles, who I rounded on with a wild glare. "You heard that from your dad? Stiles, what the hell happened to 'I'll let you know if I hear anything'?!"

He jumped back as I slapped him in the shoulder, waving his hands frantically. "I—Hey! I'm—I'm sorry! It doesn't necessarily mean that it was Lydia!"

"Oh what," I snapped. "Because we have so many other liver-snatching supernatural creatures in town?!" Stiles and Scott shared another look and I squeezed my eyes shut. "No, you know what? Don't answer that. I don't wanna know the answer to that."

"If it makes you feel any better," Scott offered. "I never ate anyone's liver when I turned."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, right, because when it comes to werewolves you're a real model of self-control."

"Better or worse, he's the only model we've got," I sighed.

Scott threw his hands out to the sides. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Wait, hold on," Stiles interrupted, looking at Scott closely. "Sadie's right."

"Wow, thanks dude."

"You're the test case for this," he continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "So we should be going over what happened to you."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked with a furrowed brow.

"I mean like what was going through your mind when you were turning, you know? What were you drawn to?"

Scott shrugged. "Allison."

Stiles and I rolled our eyes in unison, though he was markedly more exasperated. "Okay, nothing else? Seriously?"

"Nothing else matter," Scott said with a slight smirk. He readjusted his backpack straps while Stiles shook his head. "B-But that's good, right? Cause the night Lydia was bit, she was with you."

"Scott, she was forced into going on a date with Stiles. It's not exactly the same thing as you being in love with Allison," I reasoned. "If it's attraction, then she's going after Jackson, in which case I say good riddance."

Scott gave me a pointed look, as if to say, _"Don't joke about that,"_ while Stiles flailed his arms between us. "Look, Sadie, now you know what we know, okay? I'm sorry I didn't call you, I promise that I _will_ call you, so can you please, please, please go home?"

"What, so you can forget to call me again when something happens? I don't think so." I brushed past him, stalking towards the school and leaving he and Scott to scramble after me.

"Wha—? You know what? Fine! Alright! Fine. Stay here. Stay right here. See if I care."

"Good. Cause I'm not going home."

"Good. Fine."

Scott cleared his throat awkwardly. "O-kay, well then. I'm gonna—I'm gonna go check on Allison before practice…or something… Bye…" He scurried off, leaving Stiles and I to walk down the hallway alone.

I expected him to walk away at some point, peel off to go to his own locker, but he didn't. He stayed with me as I walked to my locker, staying silent but never standing more than a few inches away from my side. On some level, it was a comfort. People all around were staring at me, whispering to each other and pointing. But no one seemed to want to approach me when I had company. As long as I had Stiles, I could avoid the pestering questions. What happened Friday night? Was it really a mountain lion? Do you know where Lydia is? Is she really naked? Is she crazy? Are _you_ crazy? And not having to listen to that made me really glad to have Stiles. But all the same, he had his own classes to go to.

Stiles followed me into the classroom, walked over to my desk, and hovered awkwardly above me as I unpacked my books. I opened my notebook to a fresh page, fished a pen out of my bag, wrote my name and the date on the top of the page, and then gently placed the pen next to the book. He shuffled his feet.

"Stiles, is there a reason you're still here?"

"Wha—? I'm, uh…watching you…"

"You realize how creepy that sounds, right?"

Stiles huffed, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulder. "Well, if you're not going to stay safely at home, then I have to make sure that you're safe here."

"Stiles, that's…" I paused to glance up at him with a shy smile. "That's really sweet. But I'm fine. Besides, don't you have practice?"

He shrugged, scuffing his heel against the floor. "Safety first."

"Why are you so worried?" I asked, turning in my seat so I could face him fully. I glanced around the room, but it was still fairly early so there weren't many people around. I tried to keep my voice low nonetheless. "We just decided that the evidence points to Lydia attacking Jackson, if anyone, and we're also in a school full of kids. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, except what if you're not," Stiles countered, and I noticed his hand tighten on his bag. "I don't know if you noticed, but most of the time, the person that Scott almost killed was me. Okay? I'm his best friend, and I'd say percentage-wise, I'm probably winning in the whole attack department. And if the same thing happens to you and Lydia, I'm not gonna leave you unprotected."

We stared at each other for a few seconds, my mouth hanging slightly slack. Finally I blinked, and managed to snap out of my daze. "Uh…But—But Scott didn't look for you, right?"

"What?"

"I mean, um… Scott never came looking for you to attack you. You were only in danger because you happened to be there when he slipped. Cause you're always with Scott."

"Well…yeah," he said reluctantly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I mean…"

"Well, I'm certainly not with Lydia right now so…I don't think that's something we have to worry about…"

Stiles softened, watching me sadly as I began fiddling and twirling the pen in my hands. He shuffled a little more, before squatting next to the desk and looking up into my face. "I am really sorry that I didn't call you. I just…didn't want to let you know until we had a better idea what it meant. It might not have been her."

"Yeah, and it might actually have been her," I said, throwing my pen back to the desk.

Stiles sighed and rested one of his hands over mine, just as my mother had earlier. "Listen, we're gonna find her. I promise."

I just stared at our hands. I wanted to believe him, I did. But at the same time, finding Lydia wasn't going to make her woodland escapade any less my fault. And if she really had been digging up graves last night, eating the bodily organs from innocent corpses, then the fate I'd doomed her to was even more terrible than I'd originally imagined.

I slipped my hands out from under Stiles's, pulling them into my lap and slouching forward. "Go to practice, Stiles. I promise, I'll be fine."

He looked at me sadly for a few more seconds before nodding. He drummed his hands on the edge of my desk and then stood up, scuffing the floor with his sneaker again. "Alright. I'm going. But just… Just text me if you need me, okay?"

I nodded and waved him out the door. He glanced back one more time before venturing into the hallway, and then I was alone. Immediately it felt like the power of all my classmates' stares had quadrupled, but I tried to ignore it. I had told Stiles I was going to be okay. So I had to be okay.

For the most part, the day went better than I expected. Only a handful of people actually came up to talk to me. Their questions were invasive, but mind-numbingly simple. I tried as best as I could to brush them off, usually excusing myself to the bathroom. Everyone else really seemed to leave me alone. But it wasn't out of the goodness of their hearts. They just weren't brave enough to come up to me. They leaned together in class, formed little groups on the edges of the hallway, all watching me and waiting for the moment that I'd snap. The poorly hidden gossip was probably worse than the direct questions. Stiles and Scott eased the frustration when they could. Despite my assurance, they stayed close to me throughout the day, as if Lydia was going to spring out of a janitor's closet and try to slash my throat. Even Danny had decided to be one of my escorts, though he seemed to be doing it for the sake of my mental health and not as part of some supernatural guard.

But as terrible as it sounds, one of the only things that made the situation seem bearable was knowing that the gossip wasn't all about me. Allison was garnering a lot of attention as well, being the niece of the homicidal maniac that had allegedly been terrorizing the town recently. She didn't deserve it in the slightest. Just because we knew Kate didn't mean we were like her—or at least, that's what I kept telling myself. But misery loves company, and Allison and I seemed to reach a mutual, silent agreement that we were glad to have each other to drown with. She stopped a few not-so-nice conversations about Lydia and I, and I made sure to do the same for her.

It was near the end of the day that I was walking down the hallway towards Allison's locker. She was talking to a boy a few lockers down, and then suddenly froze, staring inside her locker with a familiar, steely look. I glanced around, spotting the two girls across the hall who were staring at her with condescending smiles. My eyes narrowed to slits, and I quickly pulled my phone from my pocket to send a quick message to Scott.

_"Allison."_

Then I walked over as slowly and casually as I could, trying to get a grasp of the conversation.

"You mean the crazy bitch who killed all those people?"

"Yeah. The fire, all those animal attacks—it was her aunt."

"Are you kidding? I sit next to her in English."

"Find a new seat."

The girls subsided into giggles, which I figured was my cue to walk up to them, books clutched to my chest. "Yeah, you probably should. You can take my seat."

"Really?" the girl on the left laughed.

My smile tightened. "Absolutely. That should be enough distance. And maybe if I get a chance to sit next to Allison—which is her name, if you were wondering, not 'girl with the crazy aunt'—I can do a better job at protecting her from profoundly bitchy psychos like you two."

The two girls balked, exchanging an offended look before glaring at me. But the best response they could come up with was, "Excuse me?"

"You know, you could at least have the courtesy to practice whispering, unless that requires an amount of brain control that you just don't have, which I guess is likely enough. And a person's family shouldn't reflect on the person themselves. Anything that her aunt did was her own choice, not Allison's responsibility. So you can back the fuck off," I snapped. "Oh, and in the stead of my _other_ best friend, it's probably my duty to inform you that mindless, petty, self-serving gossip is _so_ middle school, and doesn't make you look any cooler. Because _you_ still look like you got dressed in the dark, and _you_ still look like you might want to run to the bathroom. I think your hair might be falling out from peroxide abuse." I barely took a second to revel in their shocked and horrified faces before I spun on my heel and marched to the other side of the hallway.

Allison's eyes were wide and watery, but she was chuckling slightly. It was strained and tormented, but a laugh all the same. She wiped her eyes when I stopped next to her, turning to me with a small smile. "You probably shouldn't have said that."

"Meh. If it comes back to bite me in the ass, I'll deal with it later. They fucking deserved it."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile got just the tiny bit bigger. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for," I said with a grin. But it slid off my face almost instantly, noticing the garment bag in her locker. "Are you gonna be okay?"

She followed my eyes and sighed, pulling out the black dress. "I don't know. It's just been a lot to handle. I mean, I know you've got your own problems to deal with, but Kate's funeral is today and I…"

"When is it?" I asked, cutting her off.

She furrowed her brow, looking at me curiously. "Um, just after school. My parents are coming to pick me up and then we're going to the cemetery."

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

Allison's eyes flew open in alarm. "What?! No! No, Sadie, you can't!"

"Why?" I asked. "Is it family only?"

"What? N-No. I mean, we didn't exactly say that, but I guess it was just kind of assumed that no one but family would be coming. The media's gonna be there are everyone's gonna be watching us, and I just… It's gonna be small."

"That's okay," I assured her. "It's just…I lost Kate too, and…if there's room, I'd like to come and support you."

Allison's shoulders slumped forward in despair. "But, Sadie… I mean, my parents…"

I saw her glance at the slashes that were hidden under the layers on my shoulders and waved her off. "Your parents won't be able to say shit if I'm brave enough to show up to Kate's funeral. They know I'm not stupid. They don't have to let me stay, but maybe if I show them I'm not hiding anything then they'll realize that there's nothing wrong with me."

Allison bit her lip, glancing down at the floor and then back up at me through her lashes. "Are you sure?"

I smiled softly and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Allison, I want to be there."

After a moment, her face broke into a wide, teary smile. "Okay." She nodded fervently a few time before sniffling, wiping her eyes and closing her locker. "Have I told you that you're amazing?"

"Not recently," I said with a smirk. "But apparently we've both been a little crazy lately, so I'll forgive you." She rolled her eyes again and slapped my shoulder as she laughed. I rolled it off. "Look, I have to go, but I'll be there, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Sadie."

"Anytime."

I walked away towards my own locker, passing Scott at the end of the hall. He raised his eyebrows with concern, and I simply gave him a pointed and tilted my head back towards the place where Allison was still wiping her tears away. He nodded and ducked inside an empty classroom, and I went on my way. If I hadn't been able to completely quell Allison's sadness, Scott could.

I'd been serious about wanting to go to Kate's funeral. It was something that had been nagging at me all my time in the hospital, causing a full on war in my head. On the one hand, I now knew everything that Kate had done. She'd been so ruthless, so power hungry, that she'd burned down a house full of people—innocent people—to get rid of a handful of werewolves. And she had enjoyed it. And she'd enjoyed coming back, toying with Derek, torturing him. And I was angry about that. But it was more than just anger. Kate had found the dark side in me that reminded her of herself, and then she helped it grow. She'd tried to convince me to shoot one of my best friends just to feel the rush, and even if I hadn't gotten a chance to pull the trigger, in that moment she succeeded. Kate would always remind me of that terrible part of myself that I didn't want to think about, that I wasn't sure if I could control. A part that liked violence, chaos and power. And I was terrified that being near her again, even if she was lifeless, even if I couldn't see her, might somehow reawaken that part of me that I had spent the last few days re-burying.

And yet, at the same time, there was still a part of me that wanted to go to her funeral. That needed to go to her funeral. Because Kate hadn't just been some murdering psychopath. Not many people knew it, but Allison and I were among the few. I really believed that she loved her family, that maybe a part of her had loved me. I just couldn't see her taking all the time she had to get to know me only because her goal was to turn me into a merciless hunter. There'd still been all those times we went to lunch, watched movies, all the advice she'd given me about Stiles. Maybe I was choosing to think of her that way for my own sanity—I couldn't believe that she'd been a completely terrible person because that would mean I'd been completely fooled—but either way, the fact still stood. There was a part of me that still loved Kate, or maybe, there was a part Kate that I still loved. And as long as that was true, I couldn't be comfortable with _not_ saying goodbye.

But if the funeral was right after school, I was going to need to get changed. Allison had brought her dress to school, but I hadn't worn a single black thing beyond my boots. That meant leaving early to go home. But that was fine. There was another errand I had to run anyway.

I called my mother first, telling her that I wasn't feeling well and I wanted to come home and change so I could go to the funeral with Allison. It took several minutes of convincing. For one thing, she wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of me attending a funeral for a mass murderer, no matter how well I thought I'd known her. She also didn't want me pushing myself too hard, forcing myself to go through the emotional turmoil of the funeral on top of my best friend being missing, but I insisted that it was something I had to do. It seemed to take forever, but eventually she relented, and told me she'd go through my closet to find me a dress before I got home. Then I texted Scott and Stiles to let them know that I was leaving, God forbid either of them have a heart attack at the end of the day when they couldn't find me.

The school wasn't thrilled with my decision to leave early, but given the circumstances and my school record, they had to let it slide. I got the feeling that some of them were glad to have me out. It shouldn't really have been surprising that the faculty would react in the same way the students had to the news of what had happened Friday night. Some of them watched me sympathetically, glad to help in any way they could. Others kept their distance and didn't say a word, watching me like a piece of cracked glass that was about to shatter with the slightest touch. And then, of course, some just looked afraid, like I must be crazy too. I was just relieved to get out, good teachers and bad teachers alike.

I climbed back into the van, taking a moment to collect my thoughts before pulling out of the parking lot. I put the radio on, turned onto the road, and then drove in the complete opposite direction of my house.

I wasn't quite sure where I was going, to be honest. I had to look the location up on my phone a few times during the journey, since I'd only ever been there maybe once with Lydia. But eventually I found my destination, and parked in front of the front door of the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.

I stayed in the car a few seconds after killing the ignition, just staring at the door of the building. I was ridiculously nervous, to be honest. Sure, we were sure that Scott's boss wasn't really the Alpha, but we'd never found out why he knew the things he did. He'd lied to Derek about knowing about werewolves, and he'd helped Scott heal when the Argents attacked him. And not the frantic I-have-basic-medical-training-so-I'll-patch-you-up-as-best-as-I-can way. The way Scott had described it, Dr. Deaton hadn't batted an eye. He clearly knew something, and he was clearly hiding things, but I couldn't afford to care about that. I was desperate for answers, and the local veterinarian seemed to be the only one left who might be able to give them to me. If he'd been willing to help Scott, maybe he'd help me too.

I forced myself to climb out of the car, bringing my purse with me. I felt around the outside of the bag, ensuring that the taser was still inside. I was fairly certain I wouldn't have to use it, but at the same time, you could never be too careful. I locked the car and then walked up to the front door, wincing slightly as I opened it and set the bell off.

The inside of the vet's office looked…well…like a vet's office. There was nothing seemingly unusual about the place. Then again, I guess I should have been used to that by this point. Scott and Derek were werewolves and didn't look different, lived in normal ways. Allison's family were all hunters and looked normal, and didn't live in an obvious military fortress. So why should Deaton's office look like anything out of the ordinary? Besides, Scott had worked here for ages before he was bitten, and never suspected a thing.

Deaton was standing behind the counter when I walked in, filling out some sort of paperwork. He didn't look up, but obviously noticed my entrance. "Afternoon. How can I help you?"

"Um…hi…"

The vet glanced up from his paperwork and then paused, careful brown eyes flicking over me as I hovered in the doorway. He gently placed the pen aside, folding his hands in front of him and giving me his full attention. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Depends who you ask," I said with a shrug. "General consensus is I probably should have stayed home today. But, too late for that." He gave me a polite smile and nodded. It was a safe enough reaction, enough that I took a few more steps into the room. "I know we, uh…don't really know each other. I'm…"

"It's nice to finally meet you, Sadie," he interrupted. "I've heard a lot about you."

I immediately stopped in my tracks. The speaker was different, obviously, and using a completely different tone. But for a blink of an eye I felt like I was back at the hospital, crazed nurse blocking one exit behind me, Peter staring me down in front.

_"I've heard a lot about you, Sadie. I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced."_

Deaton seemed to notice the adverse reaction I had to his words, though he might have thought I was just uncomfortable with the idea that he knew anything about me. "Scott may be a hard worker, but he's certainly a chatty one. He's mentioned you more than once."

"Oh." I took a deep breath, shaking Peter from my mind and forcing myself to take a few more steps towards the counter. "Well, he's mentioned you a few times, too."

The man chuckled. "I'd assume the context isn't nearly so flattering when you all have to discuss me."

I grimaced, recalling the several conversations I'd had with Stiles and Scott about whether or not his boss was the Alpha. "Um…sorry about that."

Deaton merely shook his head and waved me off. "It's not a problem. I'd be surprised if you weren't suspicious, to be honest. You're smart kids." I pressed my lips into a nervous grin, and he gave me a pointed look. "But, judging by the fact that this is your first visit, and you don't seem to have an animal with you, I'm going to guess you're here to ask about something else."

"Yeah," I agreed nervously, wringing my hands around my purse strap.

He walked around the counter and gently opened the gate to the back, gesturing for me to walk through. "Maybe it would be best if we had this conversation somewhere a little more private." I shifted on my feet, eying the entrance warily. Deaton immediately picked up on the hesitation. "The mountain ash walls do help protect from the supernatural, but I promise they won't hinder you from using that taser in your bag, should you have to."

I froze for barely a second before walking through to the back room. I didn't bother asking how he'd known I had the gun with me. I probably wouldn't like the answer anyway.

The examination room of the clinic was just as standard as the rest. Desk, sink, supply cabinets, metal examination table. There were a few diagram posters on the wall, and reminders about flea shots for pets and whatnot, but besides that, the room was utterly normal.

Deaton walked over to a shelving unit and began shuffling things around, presumably busying himself with organizing while we talked. "So what brings you to the clinic, Miss Bennet?"

I paced over to the examination table, laying my purse on top and unzipping the bag. The taser sat on top of my piles of pens, close to the top. I glanced at Deaton's back and then nudged the purse to the side. Better safe than sorry. "There's been…a lot happening the last few weeks. Scott, Stiles and I aren't really sure what we're doing and…we need answers."

"And what makes you think I can give you the answers you're looking for?"

"Well you obviously know something," I half-snorted. I crossed my arms and leaned onto the table, watching him closely. "I don't know why, but… I don't care." Deaton paused in his motions, halfway through putting a book back on the shelf. "I'm guess I'm jut too desperate to care at this point, really. I don't know why you know what you know, but as long as you know it and you're willing to help me, you're probably the best chance I've got."

Deaton placed the book back on the shelf and then turned, mirroring my position on the other side of the examination table. "What exactly do you need help with?"

"It's my friend, Lydia."

"Ah, yes. Lydia Martin. I heard about what happened at the hospital. I'm sorry."

"You know why she was in the hospital?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Deaton's gaze was even, but he didn't respond. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, I wouldn't be here if I thought I could ask someone else. She was bit by Peter Hale, by the Alpha. She didn't magically heal like Scott did. But she didn't die either. She woke up and she seemed perfectly normal, until she screamed and just ran out of the hospital. None of us knows what's going on. I've talked to Derek, this supposed expert named Dr. Fenris... Neither of them has heard of a case where the bite didn't kill or turn the victim immediately. So if you know something… I just want to make sure she's safe…"

"Are you trying to ensure the town's safety? Or Lydia's?"

"Ideally?" I asked, a slight tremble in my voice. "Both."

Deaton watched me for a few seconds, before he took a deep breath and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. "There are several reasons that Miss Martin might have tried to escape the hospital as she did. It's completely possible that the problem is in her head, an actual psychological issue since the attack."

"Yeah," I scoffed, "and given our track record, what's the probability that it's something that simple?"

Deaton cocked his head to the side in agreement before continuing. "There is the chance that she could be turning."

"But then why didn't her bite heal?"

"Not everyone reacts the same way," Deaton said, waving his hands slightly as he attempted to choose the best words for his explanation. "At the risk of sounding bigoted, think of it like a virus. Two people can be infected from the same source and not show the same symptoms. One might suffer from a sore throat, another from congestion. One person might immediately feel the effects of the sickness, while it takes weeks for it to become noticeable in the other."

"So, you're saying she just had a delayed reaction?"

"I'm not sure. It's hard to say without her here to observe the symptoms."

"But you think she's definitely turning?"

He stared at me for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, and then heaved a heavy sigh. "I can honestly say that I've never heard of a single case where a human was bitten by an Alpha and did not go under some sort of transformation."

"Or die," I finished, glaring down at the reflective surface of the table.

"Or die," he agreed softly.

I knotted my hands in my hair and swallowed thickly, attempting to maintain my composure as any last dregs of hope I had for my friend fell away. I'd been holding onto the possibility that Deaton would have known of some fluke cases, times when a human had survived purely on chance. But as it was, it looked like I was going to have two werewolves as best friends.

"I am sorry, Sadie." I nodded silently, wiping my hands down my face. "You know, just because your friend is turning, doesn't mean that it's the end of world."

"I know," I sighed. "I just…wish I didn't have to drag her into this…"

"Maybe it will help your relationship," he suggested. "You're certainly closer with Scott. And it will be much easier for Lydia to cope, since she doesn't have to go through it alone."

"I don't want her to go through it at all," I said. "Not when it's my fault."

Deaton considered me for a moment. He walked around the table to stand next to me, back against the examination table with his arms crossed over his chest. "You know, you're not the only person I know in this town with a guilt complex." I glanced up, noticing the slight smile on the veterinarian's face. He gave me a pointed look. "You can't change what happened to your friend. It's not fault that matters, but what happens now. Are you still planning on being friends with Lydia?"

"Wh-What?" I stammered, eyebrows knitting together. "Yes. Absolutely."

"Then I'd say that Lydia's lucky to have someone like you to help her through the transition. So is Scott."

I let out a small puff of air. I didn't really see how being friends with me made either of them lucky, really. My panic, indecision and stubbornness had gotten Lydia attacked, and I'd almost shot Scott point blank. Even if they both forgave me, it wouldn't change what I'd done.

Deaton's expression grew serious. "Besides. Miss Martin isn't the only one who was attacked."

I rolled my eyes with a bitter smile. I raised a hand to my shoulder, holding the padding down as I rolled the joint hesitantly. "Ha. Just a flesh wound."

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good as can be expected, I guess. Better since the whole take-your-pain-away thing." I waved a hand vaguely through the air, as if it would help convey my point, then looked to Deaton. "That was a pretty cool trick you taught Scott."

"It's certainly helpful, but it's not foolproof. So maybe…" He paused, turning away from me, walking towards one of the many cabinets. He shifted through an assortment of supplies, medical boxes and cases and vials with odd markings all mixed in together. Finally, he pulled out a small mesh bag, the leaves inside brown and bright red, like some sort of finely chopped potpourri. He tossed the bag between his hands, walking back over and offering it to me. "You should also take this?"

"What is it?" I asked, accepting the bag with a nervous chuckle. "Some kinda magic-y herb I have to grind under the Wolf Moon for a potion or something?"

Deaton smirked. "Tea, actually. But I find that even the simplest things can help in the best ways." I nodded, pressing my lips into a thin smile. Should have known better than to expect something as obvious as a potion. "You should head off. You have a funeral to attend, don't you?"

The smile slid off my face, stomach twisting again as I thought of standing with Allison and her family while Kate's casket was lowered into the ground. "Is it weird that I'm going?" I asked. "Since I'm friends with Derek and all."

Deaton thought for a moment before he answered. "Odd, maybe. But I think it's the right kind of odd. Something I think this town could use a little more of."

I made a weak attempt at a smile. At least someone thought I was doing the right thing. Not necessarily someone I was sure I could trust, but someone knowledgeable who cared enough to help at least. "Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Deaton."

"My pleasure, Miss Bennet," he replied with a slight nod. "Though let's hope that the need for visits decreases in the future, yes?" I chuckled slightly, hands tightening around the bag of tea as I nodded. "Keep an eye on your friends, Sadie."

"Will do. Thanks again." I walked to the door of the back room, ready to walk back out front and too the car, but another thought made me pause. I glanced back over my shoulder. "I don't have to worry about omens or divination with these tea leaves, right?"

Deaton grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Only if you want to."

I shook my head with a slight laugh. "Of course."

"Good afternoon, Sadie."

"Yeah. You too, Dr. Deaton."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know it's sort of a filler chapter, but maybe it can give you some sort of stability after that horrendously upsetting Teen Wolf 3B trailer. I hope you guys are still enjoying the story. I'm still fighting to get out of my rut. Also, Netflix took the show off instant streaming, so it might take me a little longer to write along with the episodes now. Additionally, I'm entering finals week, so you probably shouldn't expect an update soon. Sorry lovies.**

**As usual, thank you all for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing and messaging. A big thank you to emele807, a. Paper. heaRt, easythrowaway, Emmalee Adams, alicestilinski, Lucy Greenhill, Bookie, Rain2012, LionHeartMisfit, tvdxobsesssed, TheMMMG, lizzhearts (WOW, I mean I know I messaged you, but again thank you so much), Valkyrie 101, Hanna, SarfatiArmy, brokenasylumist, Kelly1432, kaljara, Kate, blahicantthinkofaname, Lily Herondale, SummerElaine, Elm Treigh, TWsos12345, MessintheMirror, mer1in, and Mannequin Journey. Also thank you to JulieBug0624 for your message. And thank you to Briana for the KICKASS PLAYLIST she made me, which will be added to my profile ASAP. God I love when beautiful, talent people make things.**

**Anyway, I hope this was okay, and that you're all okay, and that you're having a wonderful day. Can't wait to hear what you think**

**-Brittney**


	4. Chapter 4

By the time I got home, Mom had already picked out an outfit for me to wear to Kate's funeral. A simple black dress was laid out on my bed, the neckline resting on my collarbone, but the lack of sleeves leaving my shoulders bare. I pulled on a cardigan to fend off the cold, a thick pair of black stockings, and then knee high black boots.

I stood in front of my mirror for a few solid minutes, just staring at my reflection. The last time I'd been dressed in all black was when Kate had died, hunting the Alpha. On that night I'd looked in the mirror proudly, reveling in the power that seemed to be seeping out of me. Now I just looked sickly. My skin seemed too pale against the dark clothes, and the color brought out the dark circles under my eyes. Part of me was terrified of the idea of leaving the house, getting too close to the person who had nearly pushed me over the edge. I was almost ready to just stand in front of the mirror for the rest of the night.

But then I caught the glint on my neck. My dog tags rested just over the fabric of the dress, catching what dreary light managed to fight its way through my window. I knew what it was like to lose someone close to you. It was pure, unadulterated hell. Kate had been like Allison's sister, and not only had she physically died, but so had Allison's image of who she was. So little people knew the truth about what had happened, and Allison had only recently discovered the truth of her family herself. Even if I didn't go because of my bond with Kate, I had to go for Allison. I had to be strong.

My resolve firmed, I grabbed my leather jacket off my chair and slipped it on over the dress. Then I grabbed my purse and marched downstairs.

Mom eyed the jacket curiously when I walked into the kitchen, where she was standing behind the counter. "What happened to the coat I laid out for you?"

I shrugged, picking at the ends of my sleeves. "I guess it feels more fitting. For Kate." I watched as my mother's lips thinned into a tight line, but she didn't comment. "Can we just go?"

She sighed, hands tightening marginally around the cup of tea she was drinking, fingers tapping absent-mindedly at the handle. "Are you sure you don't want to drive yourself? I'd feel a lot better knowing that you didn't have to wait for me if you needed to get out of there."

"I'll be fine, Mom," I said quietly. "I'm gonna stay with Allison. We both had a pretty rough day at school, and uh… I think she just needs some company. You can just drop me off."

She stared at me for a few seconds, emotions flitting through her eyes faster than I could register them. But finally she closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. "Okay." She set her mug aside and picked up the car keys, leading the way out to the van.

The reality of my mother's concerns didn't really hit me until we pulled up to the cemetery. The streets were packed with cars, and there was a mob of people yelling just inside the gates. My stomach began to churn again, and I felt my nerves eating away at my resolve.

"You know I'm not entirely comfortable with this, right?" my mom asked, her eyes locked on the riot taking place in the graveyard.

"Yes. You said."

"And you're still going to go?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm still going to go." I forced myself to look away from the crowd, staring into my lap and taking a few deep breaths. "I promised Allison that I would. Besides, I cared about Kate too."

"Sadie, you never knew Kate," she said, her voice practically trembling from the effort of trying to remain calm. "I know you thought that she was a great person, but that's what dangerous people do. You saw what she wanted you to see. You didn't know the real Kate, and you do not owe her anything. Even an attendance to her funeral."

It took everything I had to hold my tongue. The fact of the matter was that I did know the real Kate. I might not have known her the whole time, but now I was one of a handful of people in Beacon Hills who really knew her. We were the only ones who knew her motives for killing. We were the ones who knew that—while she far from being innocent—she wasn't the one who had been slaughtering townsfolk. We were the ones who had been with her on her last day, who saw her final moments, who watched the lights leave her eyes.

Maybe it was slightly selfish, but I felt like I was one of the people who knew Kate best of all. Because it seemed painfully clear to me that Kate and I were almost the same. She had loved her family, been passionate about her beliefs, was stubborn and reckless and hurt. She had lived a life no normal person would understand, gone through dark and dangerous things most people couldn't even imagine. There was a reason that she was the way she was. That didn't excuse her actions at all, but it did attempt to explain them. It made it just that much harder to forget the Kate that I had known, the one who laughed at my sarcastic quips, who gave me advice and teased me with sexual innuendos about Stiles, who had consoled Allison and I and made us smile on our worst days. It was hard to be consistently angry at Kate for what she did. And after I had pointed a gun at one of my best friends, felt the surge of power that nearly pushed me to pull the trigger, I almost felt like I didn't have the right. How could I hate Kate for what she'd done when I had almost started down the path to doing the same thing? I couldn't hate her. I was just scared of her. I was properly terrified that she was the person that I had the potential to become, that I _was_ going to become. I would wind up hurting the people I loved, and then people would be talking about me like they were talking about Kate now. _"Sadie was crazy. Complete psycho." "She was always dangerous. She was just good at hiding it." "You didn't know the real Sadie." "Oh, you knew her? Are you majorly fucked up too?"_

I was going to Kate's funeral because I was still attached to the good part of her that I'd known. But maybe there was also a part of me that was trying to reassure myself that people would still do the same for me.

"And it's not just your relationship with Kate," Mom continued, hardly pausing at all. "It just dangerous. I mean, do you see that mob of people? That's reporters, angry neighbors, the families of her victims." I flinched at the last word, but if she noticed she didn't comment. "Things could get out of hand and then you'll all be in danger."

"Well then, I can't let Allison go through that alone, can I?" I looked over at her, trying to show my resolve. She held my gaze for a few seconds before looking away and shaking her head. I nodded just marginally to myself. She still wasn't okay with it, but at least acknowledged that there would be no stopping me. "I should go. The service is probably going to start soon. Thank you, Mom." I leaned over to the driver's side to kiss her cheek.

She sighed. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I'm always careful," I lied with a small smile, and slid out of the car.

The noise of the crowd doubled the moment I stepped out of the van. It seemed to be mostly media people, asking for comments on the rumors about Kate's crimes. Just as mom predicted, there also seemed to be a few friends and family of the people Peter had killed. They'd stand completely still for a while before they exploded, screeching across the barrier before returning to solemn silence and tears. I tried to shake off the chill that went down my spine and eased my way along the side of the group up to the barrier.

Halfway through the crowd, a sharp elbow collided with my right arm. It was high enough that I let out an involuntary gasp of pain, as the slices Peter had left on my shoulder stung in protest. I narrowed my eyes reproachfully at the boy, who barely glanced back from his camera to mumble an apology. But suddenly, he did a double take and looked back.

He was around my age, with short brown hair and pale skin. His blue eyes were wide with shock at the moment, and to be honest I was expecting a more sincere apology. But instead, his face morphed from surprise into a deadly glare. The distain quickly fell off my face, replaced by confusion as he snarled at me. But he didn't say a word. Instead, he pushed past me, making me stumble slightly in the grass. Before I could say anything, he had disappeared among the rest of the photographers.

I huffed, though I barely heard the sound myself over all the yelling and screaming around me. Attempting to shake off my annoyance, I placed a protective hand over my injured shoulder and continued trying to reach the front of the group.

The railing had been set up several yards away from the gravesite. There was a green tarp lying on the ground, giving the illusion of flowers and a green lawn in the middle of the dead grass. The casket stood at the edge, sleek and black in the dull light. There were a few rows of chairs set up for guests as well, but I knew they must mostly be for show. There was no way that many people were attending the funeral. At the moment, only Allison and her parents sat in the front row, accompanied by two men in suits whom I assumed were running the service.

I leaned my torso over the railing, attempting to get Allison's attention. Almost immediately, one of the police officers guarding the barrier descended on me.

"Hey! Get back behind the… Sadie?"

I smiled sheepishly at Sheriff Stilinski, whose eyebrows had immediately knitted together in confusion. "Hi, Mr. Stilinski."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low but still be heard over the rioting.

"I'm here for the funeral."

Instantly, a shadow passed over his face. It was the same worried, parental look that my mother had given me in the car, the one that said, _"I completely disapprove of this idea, but you're trying to be kind so I can't be angry with you." _He looked around the crowd, glanced behind him at the Argents, and then rubbed his forehead with a grimace. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Sadie."

"Allison's expecting me," I assured him. "I let her know earlier that I was coming."

"Well unfortunately her family neglected to let _us_ know that you were coming."

I tilted my head to the side in assent. That made sense. Allison was already nervous enough about what her parents thought about me, and probably decided that if she asked them if it was okay that I come, they'd say no. They'd probably say no and then hunt me down. I understood that she wanted to avoid the confrontation, but that didn't change the fact that I was now dropping in on the family of hunters uninvited.

"Well, can I go ask them for confirmation that I'm allowed to stay?" I asked. The sheriff waffled for a moment, looking over his shoulder and then along the railing to his colleagues. I forced a small smile on my face. "Would you feel better if I had a police escort who could drag me away by the ears if it turns out I'm trespassing?"

That coaxed a reluctant chuckle from him, and after a moment he nodded. "Okay. Come on." He gently took my arm and helped me between the barriers. As soon as the crowd at my back noticed that I was being allowed entrance, their volume tripled. Sheriff Stilinski waved them all back and gestured for the other officers to control the situation. Then he rested his hand on my shoulder and walked me over to the plot.

The Argents had obviously noticed the sudden noises of protest, and immediately looked over in search of the cause. Mr. and Mrs. Argent both tensed upon seeing me, caught between worry and something akin to outrage. Allison sat between them, equally as worried about my arrival, but also looking somewhat relieved. They all stood as the sheriff and I approached, and Mr. Argent stepped forward.

"Sadie," he greeted tightly. His sharp eyes watched my every move intently, and I could barely bring myself to nod in response.

"She tells me she came for the service," the sheriff said. "I don't know if you folks were expecting her, so I thought she should come ask." There was a moment of silence as the Argents all exchanged looks.

"I invited her," Allison said abruptly, causing everyone to turn and stare at her. She fidgeted slightly, but managed to maintain her resolution. "I told her she could come." I watched as Allison's mother gave her a seething look.

Sheriff Stilinski narrowed his eyes, but turned back to her father. "It's up to you, sir."

Mr. Argent looked to his wife and held her gaze for several, silent seconds. They were clearly having some sort of silent discussion, but unlike most people, they did so without using a single muscle in their faces. No widened eyes, no raised eyebrows, no clenched jaws. Just completely blank faces. Finally, they both turned their gaze to me, eyes picking me apart inch by inch. I tried my best not to fidget, to have the same sort of silent conveying of ideas without moving, but it was harder than it looked.

"I'll handle it, Sheriff," Mr. Argent said finally, nodding dismissively but keeping his eyes trained on me.

No one moved for a couple seconds, but I felt Mr. Stilinski's hand tighten on my shoulder. I looked up to see him watching Allison's father, his eyes narrowed warily. I shrugged my shoulder slightly to catch his attention, making him look down at me.

"Thank you," I said quietly, and nodded reassuringly. He glanced back at Mr. Argent once before copying my motion. His hand slid from my shoulder to give me a gentle pat on the back, and then he turned to rejoin his colleagues at the barrier. I took a few tentative steps forward but wasn't brave enough to break the silence.

Mr. Argent waited until the sheriff was safely back at the security railing before turning his cold eyes back to me. "Sadie, while I appreciate the sentiment of your coming here, I'm not sure we're completely comfortable with the idea of your attendance." He annunciated every word clearly, almost violently, as if he believed the sharp consonants would be able to cut me like the knives he couldn't use in public.

"Because I was attacked?" I asked, glad to hear that my voice wasn't wavering.

"Yes."

I thought about defending myself, reminding them that Peter attacking me hadn't been my fault. At least, that's what I kept trying to tell myself. But in the end, I held my tongue. Mrs. Argent looked about ready to make me a victim again, even with the cameras of ten different news stations watching my back. Instead, I matched her steady glare. "Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to show up if I thought there was even the slightest chance that I was turning?" Neither of them was willing to admit that I was right, but I noticed them both tense ever so slightly. I smirked internally at the victory, but kept my face passive. "I'm still human, and I've got the unhealed claw marks to prove it."

A breeze swept through the graveyard, the rustling leaves, the only sound that passed between us. We all stood still for what must have been a whole minute, and I was about ready to give up.

"Chris!" Mrs. Argent snapped suddenly, glaring at her husband. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. I saw his jaw click, even from my distance.

I hadn't noticed his resolve was softening, but apparently his wife had. I lost no time taking advantage of the weakness. "Look, if you want to turn me away in front of the media, then whatever. I'm just here to pay my respects."

Mrs. Argent's sharp eyes quickly snapped to mine, her face bordering on a dangerous, dangerous scowl. "We don't need your pity."

It was a little amazing to me how much her attitude seemed to have changed over the last few months. I'd always found Allison's mother a little intimidating, but she'd never done anything to prove it. She was polite, a great cook, always kind even if a little formal. But that was before she'd known I knew about werewolves. Now she seemed ruthless, vicious, giving me a look that definitely brought the phrase "if looks could kill" to mind. She saw me as a threat, someone who was fraternizing with the enemy and endangering her daughter by encouraging her to do the same. I was threatening everything she loved. But she was doing the same by planning to kill my friends.

"Good," I said, narrowing my eyes with as much force as I could muster. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for Allison. And for Kate."

I let my gaze flick back to Mr. Argent, who seemed to be considering the proposal. After a few seconds, he tilted his head a few inches, jerking it back as an invitation to take a seat. Mrs. Argent's hands balled into fists at her sides, but I nodded my thanks anyway.

Even with my assurance about my uncompromised species, neither of Allison's parents seemed too keen on sitting next to me. They stuck me at the end of the first row, grudgingly allowing Allison to sit on my left. But before they'd let us be, it seemed I had to be threatened one more time.

Mr. Argent bent down slightly, piercing eyes staring down at me. "Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully, Sadie. The other people attending this service do not know everything about the last few days. They do not know about Scott. They do not know about your involvement. They do not know that you know anything about what is going on. And if they did, it would not end well for any of us. So I highly suggest that as long as they are here, you do your best to keep quiet."

"Yes, sir," I ground out, keeping my gaze equally as steady. He nodded once and then walked away to sit with his wife on the other end of the row.

Allison slowly released a low stream of air in relief. "I am so sorry."

"It's fine. I get it," I said with a small shrug.

She turned her head to smile at me, reaching out and grabbing one of my hands. "Just…thank you. For coming."

I returned the grin, squeezing her hand gently. "You're welcome."

Allison opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it once more. She shot a stealthy side-glance at her parents, and then leaned slightly closer to me. "Are…Are you sad?"

I bit my lip for a second, but nodded. "Yeah. Aren't you?"

I only barely heard her sigh, and she slouched down slightly in her chair. Her grip on my hand tightened slightly, and I could see her feet tapping anxiously in the grass. "It feels… I don't know. It feels wrong to."

"You're allowed to be upset," I assured her. "She was your aunt."

"Yeah, and she was also responsible for burning down a house full of innocent people."

I pursed my lips, trying to force the reminder out of my mind as quickly as it had come in. "Look, Allison," I said, turning my body slightly so I could face her. "Kate did a lot of things. But I'm positive that she loved you." Allison crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, but I could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes. "No, I'm serious. What she did was wrong, but she didn't want you to get hurt. She wanted you to be safe, and she wanted you to be happy… Kate did a lot of terrible things, and you don't have to miss all of her. But you're allowed to miss the parts of her that you knew like a sister."

She looked over at me nervously, looking up through her lashes with the ghost of a smile. "That's what Scott said."

"Yeah, well I guess he's not a complete bonehead."

Allison let out a watery laugh and wiped at her eyes. I grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me and sniffled for a few seconds before we were interrupted by a commotion by the barrier.

We quickly looked up and turned as the yelling behind the railing fell into a hush. There were a few people on our side of the divider. One of them was the rude camera boy who'd elbowed me earlier. He was talking to an older man, head balding with white hair on the sides, and dressed in a neat, dark suit. He was flanked by two large men who looked like they'd been dressed by some Hollywood government agency, wearing suits and sunglasses that were definitely unnecessary in the dim winter light. But I didn't need the bodyguards to tell me that this man was important. It was written all over the way he held himself, the sharp way he narrowed his eyes, the precise fingers that disassembled some camera part that he'd taken from the boy and then discarded the pieces to the ground.

Whatever he said made the boy slink off, and the new arrivals walked towards Kate's plot. Mr. and Mrs. Argent both rose to stand immediately. I shot a curious look at Allison, but followed her lead to stay in my seat.

The man practically glided up to Allison's parents. They all hugged and there was some exchange of what looked to be quiet consolations. A few seconds later he turned, striding over to us and stopping squarely in front of Allison. She looked up slowly, her doe eyes wide with apprehension and maybe even a touch of fear.

If he noticed her distress, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he smiled. "Allison, dear, you need to stop growing. Reminds me just how old I am." She attempted a smile, but it was feeble at best. He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Do you remember me?"

Allison nodded, barely moving her head an inch. She glanced to the side and I tried to give her an encouraging smile, but after a moment I realized that she wasn't actually looking at me. She was looking past me. I furrowed my brow but fought to hold my ground, just in case she didn't want to be caught looking at whatever was so interesting over my shoulder. But the man seemed to notice anyway, and his head snapped to the side, trained eyes searching for a target. After a moment, he relaxed, seeing no threat and turning back to my friend.

I slowly twisted my head to the side, glancing at the tree line out of the corner of my eye. There was a large headstone with a creepy statue of an angel atop it, but it quickly became apparent that Allison hadn't been interested in the sculpture. Behind the statue's base I could just see a shock of dark hair, and a plaid sleeve. Scott's head peeked out from the side, followed by Stiles's. He offered a small grin and a two-finger salute when he noticed me watching, and I rolled my eyes. It was sweet that they had decided to come, but they were undoubtedly going to get horrendously busted.

"Considering I haven't seen you since you were three," the man was saying when I turned my attention back to the conversation, "I don't suppose I can assume you'd call me 'Grandpa.'"

Allison smiled politely, and I raised my eyebrows just the slightest fraction. In reality, I wasn't all that surprised. I had assumed Kate's funeral would be all family, and it wasn't too hard to believe that this man was part of a long line of dangerous hunters.

Allison's grandfather seemed to pick up on her hesitation though, as he quickly continued, "So, if it's comfortable, call me Gerard for the time being. But I'd prefer Grandpa." He sent her a small wink, as if closing the subject. I expected him to take a seat, but instead I looked up to find his sharp, calculating eyes staring down at me. "And you must be Sadie Bennet."

My mouth instantly fell open, and I turned to look at Allison for direction. But Allison seemed just as surprised as I was, eyebrows arched high over her wide eyes. Even Mr. and Mrs. Argent seemed to be panicking, shooting each other nervous side glances. So much for _"the others"_ not knowing who I was…

Gerard notice my confusion immediately, and chuckled. "My daughter mentioned that she'd been spending quite a lot of time with Allison and one of her friends. I think you'll find she was quite fond of you two. I expect you've been taking good care of Allison in my absence?"

I shot Allison another quick side-glance before forcing myself to look him in the face. "Yes, sir," I replied. The greeting was cordial enough, but unlike most introductions, I did not offer a hand to shake. I knew enough to realize that Gerard had to be one man you did not want to mess with. He'd raised Kate, and even his own son seemed terrified of the consequences should Gerard find out he'd done something wrong. He might have been smiling at me, adding that Father Christmas twinkle in his eye, but I knew a good actor when I saw one. It was a solid façade, one that was only barely broken by his quick reflexes and the fear he incited in others. But Gerard was dangerous, and after what had happened to me with Kate, I wasn't planning on getting close to any dangerous hunters any time soon.

"Sir!" he laughed, brandishing a finger at me. "Ah, I like her." He smiled warmly at Allison, granting his approval before turning back. "Kate also told me that you were a fairly talented markswoman."

I could practically feel the tension building in the air. Allison and her parents had gone rigid, but Gerard and I both seemed to be pretending we hadn't noticed. We both kept up a casual air, as if Kate had told him I was good at baking soufflés and not that I had potential to be a werewolf killer.

"My dad was a policeman," I explained with a small shrug, "so I have a little practice."

"Ah, the police. Protectors of the peace," he said with a smile. "Considering joining the family business?"

"Actually I prefer books," I disagreed, trying to keep my voice even.

Gerard smirked. "Well there's just as much power in knowledge as any other weapon." I smiled awkwardly and bobbed my head, but froze again when he leaned forward. "I want to thank you for coming to show your support. It's nice to see the effect she had on people."

I nodded, but it was a slightly jerky action. I was trying hard not to truly think about the effect Kate had had on me, the dangerous cliff she'd pushed me to the edge of. I wanted to think about the brief good memories I had of her, not the way she corrupted me and tortured my friends. I also didn't want to think about how much Gerard might have known about the effect she'd had. His comment seemed innocent, but I knew there was probably more behind it. Could he know about all of the things Kate had made me do? Or the things she'd almost convinced me to do myself? Maybe she'd been talking to her father about it all along. Maybe she'd called him while I was changing in the hospital, right before the final showdown that was the last few minutes of her life. Maybe Gerard saw the war I was fighting inside myself—being a Kate, or being a moral, potentially _dead_ teenage girl—and was proud to see his daughter's work.

Or maybe I was just being paranoid. That seemed to be proving a viable option. Only a few more Argents showed up for the service, each of them offering sympathetic glances towards the immediate family, each of them shooting me an inquisitive, reproachful glare. Was it just because I was a stranger? An outsider to the family? Or was it because they knew what I'd almost done? Were they evaluating looks, wanting to test how far they could push me? Or were they disgusted that I could even think about doing something so horrible, that I might grow up to break the code just like Kate had? Was Allison leaning away from me because she'd remembered I'd almost shot her boyfriend? Was the man leaning the service watching me? Was everyone just waiting for me to snap?

_"Pretty much, kid."_

I froze as the voice rang clear throughout my head. No, no, no. It was only in my head, and I could shut it down. I had to stop being stupid and stop imagining things.

_"Oh, come on, Sadie,"_ Kate's voice snickered from the back of my skull. _"I think we both know that self control doesn't really work like that, right?"_

I nervously glanced over at Allison, but her teary eyes were still locked on Kate's casket. No one else seemed to think anything had changed. They were all listening intently to the words being said, muttering responses to prayers at the appropriate times.

_"Just you and me, honey. I mean, yeah, they're my family or whatever but I don't think I had such a profound effect on them, you know?"_

I blinked hard, staring intently at the grass at my feet. _"Stop."_

_"I mean you, Sadie—you're truly a piece of work. My little protégé. I would have had you slashing up shifters in a heartbeat, thriving on the danger and the power. Who knows? Maybe I still will."_

_"I said stop."_

_"I mean, the rate you're going you're obviously gonna freak out. I mean, you are literally hearing me in your head. That just can't be healthy."_

_"Stop. Please just stop."_

_"Sweetheart, I wish it was that easy. Well, actually, I don't. But this isn't about me. This is about you. The real you. Cause you know that you're not gonna be able to run from it forever. And the sooner you accept that you are just as dangerous and terrible and bloodthirsty and psychotic as I was, the sooner everyone can leave you behind and the better off everyone will be."_

_"STOP!"_

"Sadie?"

I jumped slightly in my seat, looking up to find Allison standing next to me, looking down in concern. She was holding a lily in each hand, one of which was being held out to me. She seemed to be the only person that noticed something was wrong though. Everyone else was standing, lining up with flowers in their hands to drop on the coffin, which had already been lowered into the ground. I looked around in slight bewilderment, blinking tears out of my eyes that I wasn't aware had been forming.

"Are you okay?" Allison asked.

I swiftly nodded, wiping the tears from my face and standing up. I grabbed the flower from her hand and followed her over to the queue. I tried to avoid eye contact and keep my head down, as if people would be able to understand what was in my head just by looking at me. Allison sent me a few curious, worried looks, but didn't question it outright.

Gerard went first, dropping his lily and standing by the grave for a few seconds before moving to stand at the head of the hole. Then the rest of the line proceeded, each saying goodbye to Kate and then offering their condolences once more to her father. As I approached the coffin, I tried to focus on the good times I had experienced with Kate. Going out to lunch, getting ready for the party on Halloween. That was the Kate I wanted to remember. But it was hard to focus when her voice still seemed to be giggling in the back of my head. A few tears of frustration leaked out of my eyes and I dropped the lily on top of the others. I simply nodded to Gerard, then hurried back to my seat, suddenly anxious for the whole ordeal to be over with.

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long. People began leaving only a few minutes after the flowers were gone, and I took my cue to stand up and swing my bag back on my shoulder. Allison stood next to me, pulling me into a tight hug and letting her forehead rest on my shoulder for a few seconds.

"Thank you so much for coming," she whispered, finally pulling away. "All of this has just been so crazy, and…"

"Hey, it's okay," I dismissed, forcing a hollow smile on my face. "I get it."

She eyed my expression warily, immediately picking up on the fact that it wasn't completely genuine. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." I waved her off and closed my eyes, hoping she wouldn't be able to tell that I was lying. "Although I'm probably gonna need to find a new ride home. I'm not sure you house is the, uh…safest place for me to be right now."

Allison winced. "I'm seriously so sorry."

"And I'm seriously okay with it. I'll just find Stiles and Scott or something. Sure they're prowling around here somewhere." I fished my phone out of my purse, surprised to find that there was already a text from Stiles waiting for me.

_"Hey, when you get the chance, could you let Scott and I out of the back of my dad's cruiser?"_

I chuckled and rolled my eyes.

"What?" Allison asked as I tucked my phone away.

"Nothing, nothing. They just got busted by the sheriff is all. Looks like I have to go play the knight in shining armor or whatever."

She nodded shyly, glancing around to make sure her parents were well out of earshot, immersed in a conversation with Gerard. "Can you…? Just, thank Scott for coming. It meant a lot to me."

I smirked and rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "Got it. Deliver the love letter promptly."

"Seriously?" She pushed my shoulder slightly and then gave me a pointed look. "It was sweet of _both_ of them to come. But I don't think Stiles was here for me."

"Okay, and that's my cue to go," I said quickly, clenching the straps on my purse. "I love you, and I will see you later."

Before she could do anything more than shake her head at me, I was walking away. I nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Argent, and then tried my best to avoid the press as I made my way out of the graveyard once more.

It wasn't that hard to find Scott and Stiles. There was still a small group of cruisers in the parking lot—all officers who had been brought in for security purposes. I could recognize Sheriff Stilinski from a mile away, even if I hadn't seen the two figures slouching in his back seat. I crept up behind the car, trying to stay low and move quickly in case he decided to glance in one of his mirrors. I splayed my hand over the glass window of the back door when I reached it, making the boys jump slightly, but not startling them enough to make any noise. Then, very carefully, I pried the back door open, letting Stiles and Scott scramble as quietly as they could out of the car.

I was ready to close the door too, but Stiles grabbed my arm and was pulling me towards the tree line before I could comprehend what was happening. "Nope!" he whispered. "Leave it, leave it. Go, go, go!"

Bewildered, I followed his directions and ran into the forest. It took me a few minutes to catch up, what with my heels, but eventually I found them standing well out of sight, panting slightly. "Yeah, you're welcome, assholes," I shot, angrily brushing dirt and leaves from my dress.

Stiles ignored the attitude, sending me the smallest of smiles. "Have I ever complimented you on your impeccable sense of timing?"

"Um, no?" I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly the most punctual person."

"We just heard the sheriff get a call on his radio," Scott explained, looking much more serious than Stiles had a moment ago.

"A 415A," he said. Suddenly, he looked just as grave as his friend.

"Okay? What does a um, disturbance in a car have to do with us?"

"Not just any car. An ambulance," Stiles explained as Scott glanced between the two of us. "Ambulance with a DOA heart attack victim got hit on the side of the road. Blood everywhere. Apparently something got into the back."

"Or someone," Scott added, looking at me sadly.

My stomach suddenly seemed to turn to ice. He didn't need to say anything more than that. First the liver snatching grave robber, now a corpse torn apart in an ambulance, and Lydia was still missing. If it had been her, it was getting more and more important that we find her. The second victim had only been recently deceased, and there was no telling when she might start looking for fresher morsels.

"Okay," I forced myself to say. "We uh…we know where we're going?"

At a pointed look from Stiles, Scott nodded. "Yeah, just um, follow me. And stay close." He turned and led the way deeper into the forest, leaving Stiles and I to follow after him.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, Scott going ahead while Stiles and I walked in sync behind him. He kept his hand on my elbow, holding back branches for me and doing his best to help me navigate through the dead leaves in my ridiculously impractical boots.

"If I'd known I was going hiking, I would have worn sneakers," I grumbled as Stiles helped me over a log.

He left out a soft laugh and guided me to the ground. He slid his hand lower on my arm, so he was holding my wrist instead of my forearm. "I'd offer to carry you, but I'm pretty sure that my complete lack of upper body strength would only make things worse."

"Guess it's the thought that counts," I chuckled.

"I could offer for Scott to carry you?" he said, perking up slightly.

My small smile spread farther over my face and I rolled my eyes. "Really, Stiles, I'm fine."

"You sure about that?" he asked as one of my heels plunged into the dirt. I swatted at his chest, pulling my foot up and reminding myself for the hundredth time that I should be trying to walk on the balls of my feet. "No, really," he continued, cautiously taking my hand instead this time. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He didn't answer straight away, and his hand felt clammy on my skin, even in the cold. "It's just… Scott said he could hear your heartbeat during the funeral, like going crazy. I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

I could see Scott falter in his stride ahead of us, more than aware that my heart rate had spiked again. For a moment, I debated telling them what had happened to me back at the graveyard, the dialogue that had been running in my head. But there were more important things to worry about, weren't there? We were already running against the clock trying to find Lydia, who may or may not have been mangling corpses. I didn't need Stiles and Scott worrying about my sanity too. That, and partially that I was just too afraid to tell them. Maybe telling them what I'd thought would make them realize that Kate had been right, and it would be best to leave me behind.

"I'm okay," I said after a few seconds. "I promise."

Stiles looked only marginally reassured, and when Scott glanced back at us, I noticed that he actually seemed more worried than ever. Obviously he knew that I was lying. But that didn't really matter at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that they didn't know the truth. And that was something no werewolf could discern from my heartbeat.

By the time we'd walked around the woods to the part of town where the ambulance had been ambushed, it was already dark out. Stiles was practically dragging me through the leaves by that point. My feet were sore, I was freezing, and I was exhausted. But I had to keep walking, because we needed to find Lydia.

We edged up the hill that led up to the road, kneeling in the dirt and trying to keep low. There were a few cop cars parked around with their lights flashing, the officers milling around as they tried to figure out what might have happened. The ambulance was still there, back doors swung wide open to reveal the carnage inside. The man was still lying back on the stretcher, but blood now coated almost every inch of him, seeping through his shirt and painting the once sterile, white walls of the vehicle. I bit my lip and let my nails dig into the dirt as I forced myself to look away.

Stiles shot me a nervous glance before leaning over to Scott. "What the hell is Lydia doing?" I knew he was trying to keep his voice low, so that I wouldn't hear him and I wouldn't have to face the question. But even if I hadn't heard him say it, the question was hanging in the air, impossible to ignore. I didn't want to imagine Lydia doing this. I couldn't.

"I don't know," Scott said quietly.

"Okay, what kept you from doing that?" Stiles asked. "Was it Allison?"

"I hope so," he answered quietly.

I could feel Stiles glance over at me again, but I kept my eyes glued to the ground. Sure, Scott's love of Allison had kept him grounded, but what did Lydia have? She loved Jackson, but he hadn't exactly been the most receptive person in the last couple weeks. If this was her—and I forced myself to say if as if it weren't—then she needed an anchor, something she very clearly did not have.

The leaves rustled as Stiles anxiously tapped his fingers against the ground, shooting me a series of nervous looks before turning back to Scott. "Do you need to get closer?"

I heard Scott sniff at the air for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I got it." There were a few tense seconds as he tried to lock onto the scent, then pushed himself to his feet so he could follow it.

But before he could make it even a step, Stiles's arm shot out and grabbed him by the shoulder. He glanced back at me before pulling Scott a few steps away. They conversed in whispers for a few seconds, looking towards me every few seconds. I wanted to know what they were saying, but for some reason I couldn't seem to move. It was as if forcing myself to not look at the ambulance, to not consider the possibilities of Lydia's state, had completely drained my energy. Eventually, I saw Scott nod, and he and Stiles both walked back in my direction.

"Sadie, I'm gonna find her," Scott promised. "I will."

"Thanks," I said quietly. He nodded, and then turned to jog into the forest. I quickly scrambled to my feet, but Stiles stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "What are you doing? We've gotta go."

"Sadie, he's gonna find Lydia. It'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know, Stiles," I replied, narrowing my eyes at him. "And I'm gonna be there when he does."

He sighed. "Sadie…"

"No! No, Stiles! I did the whole go home and try and get some rest thing yesterday. And you know what? It sucked. I am not giving up!"

"I'm not asking you to give up," he pleaded. "I'm asking you to let Scott find her. You need to…"

"I'm fine, Stiles!" I snapped.

"No, you're not!" he burst. "Look, Scott heard you freaking out during the funeral, and even if he didn't, I can see there's something wrong. Maybe it's just Lydia, maybe it's not. If you don't want to tell me, fine, but don't expect me to just accept that you're okay."

We stood in silence for a minute, breath coming out in crystalized puffs in the darkness as we stared at each other. I wanted to hold my ground, fight for my right to search for my best friend, but even the small argument with Stiles seemed to have exhausted me. I sighed, wrapping my arms tight around my torso and giving in. "Fine. Back to the Jeep."

I moved to take a few steps forward into the woods, but Stiles moved in my way to block the path. "Are you kidding? Sadie you look like you're gonna freeze. Come on. Dad'll drop us off at the cemetery, and then I'll drive you home." He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me on the spot. Then his hand slid down to my back as he helped push me up the hill.

"Aren't you a little worried about facing him after you broke out of the cruiser?" I asked tiredly.

Stiles snorted. "Like it's the worst thing I've done. Besides, you're the one who sprung us, so I don't see why I have anything to worry about."

That managed to coax a small smile out of me. Stiles grinned, rubbing my back soothingly for a few seconds. He dropped his hand as we walked farther down the road, closer to the flashing lights of the accident. Then, it was only a minute before the sheriff spotted us and started walking in our direction, arms crossed over his chest.

"Uh, hey Dad."

"Stiles," he greeted, nodding stiffly. "And the third accomplice."

I winced, but lifted my hand in a feeble wave. "Hey, Sheriff Stilinski."

"You know, I could probably have you arrested for breaking delinquents out of the back of a police patrol car."

"I know they're annoying, but they're not really delinquents," I said with a shrug. "And I wasn't really breaking. The door was unlocked."

The sheriff shook his head, wiping his palm across his forehead in that frustrated way of his. "Sadie, stuff like that can still get you in a lot of trouble."

"Am I in a lot of trouble?" I asked meekly.

Mr. Stilinski stared at me for a few seconds before heaving a tremendous sigh and shaking his head. "Not tonight. And I know it doesn't mean anything to you two but _please_ don't do it again?"

"Again? Psh!" Stiles chuckled nervously, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Why—Why would be do it again? We're practically saints, Dad."

"Stop talking, Stiles," Mr. Stilinski said. He was still shaking his head, but there was a distinct smile tugging at his lips. "Do I want to know what you two are doing here?"

"We just need a lift back to the cemetery," Stiles explained, removing his arm from my shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. "So I can get my Jeep."

"And why do you not have the Jeep?"

"I, uh… We—We do not have the Jeep be-because we went on a walk."

"You went on a walk?"

"Yes. Yes, Dad, we went on a walk."

"Why were you walking through the woods at this time of night?" the sheriff asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Because of me," I said, making both of them turn to me. "I wanted to look for Lydia."

Their faces softened almost immediately, the sheriff out of sympathy, and Stiles because he knew that was actually the truth for once.

"You realize that's not safe, right?" Mr. Stilinski asked, dropping his arms from his chest to his hips.

"It's not safe for her to be out there either," I argued, and he cocked his head to the side in reluctant agreement. "You still haven't heard anything?"

"No," he sighed. "Unfortunately, we still haven't heard anything. We sent out the search parties today, but between a missing girl, a grave robbery, funeral security and this, the force is a little spread out."

"And what exactly is this?" Stiles piped up, turning to walk towards the wreckage.

"We're not sure," the sheriff said, grabbing his son by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from the accident. "And if we're not sure, then the last thing we need is you poking around."

"What, me?" Stiles asked, raising a finger. "I'm—I'm not poking around."

"That's right. You're not. Because you're going to get in the car, get the Jeep, drive Sadie home, and then you're going to stay in your room just like you were supposed to stay in the cruiser this afternoon."

"Does it have to be my room? I mean, like, can I be in the living room? Or like, the kitchen?"

"Stiles…"

"No seriously! I wouldn't want to accidentally violate the terms of my punishment because you weren't specific enough. What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

A small smile made its way onto my face as the two continued to bicker, one crack after another. I was just about to make a joke myself—that it wasn't that hard to spend the whole night in your room. I'd done it the previous night. Until I remembered that last night I hadn't spent the night in my room. I'd spent it in Lydia's. Because she was gone.

My stomach lurched and the smile quickly fell off my face. Mr. Stilinski had said that Lydia's search parties had gone out today—students and parents and teachers all scouring the woods for her. And where had I been? At Kate's funeral, with a bunch of people who were planning to hunt Lydia down and then, if they thought she was a threat, put her down. And then I'd gone traipsing in the woods with Stiles and Scott. The woods where she was presumably still running around, lost and scared. Had I even been paying attention? We could have walked right past her, or a clue to where she was, a long piece of strawberry blonde hair snagged on a branch that could tell us what direction she'd been going in. We'd been in the forest and I couldn't even remember whether or not I'd thought to keep an eye out for her. I'd just been worried about my shoes, about Stiles, about myself. And then I'd let Scott go off by himself to look for her so that Stiles could take me home. What kind of a friend did that make me, especially when I was one of the reasons she was out there in the first place? I was failing her. I was failing Lydia, and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

I felt my eyes start to sting and blinked hard. I really did not want to break down and start crying. Not in front of all those people, Stiles and his dad. I was so tired of seeming weak, and I didn't think I could handle a single person worrying about me again when my first priority should have been Lydia.

But the stinging wouldn't stop. It was getting hard to see through the water welling up in my eyes, and I could hear my breath getting shaky. I glanced between the Stilinskis, but neither of them seemed to have noticed anything was wrong with me yet.

Making a snap decision, I turned toward the nearest cruiser. It looked like the sheriff's but I couldn't really tell. And at the moment, I didn't really care. I just needed to get away.

I was about halfway to the car when I heard it. There was a rustling coming from just beyond the trees on the side of the road. Normally I would have brushed it off as a squirrel or something, but for some reason, the sound made me freeze on the spot. Maybe I was still skittish after the attack. Maybe it was because I was so worried about something happening to Lydia. All I knew was that the possibility of something moving in the trees made me stop dead in my tracks.

One of the tree branches swayed slightly, and my breath caught in my throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, a pale hand reached out of the darkness, shaking violently like one of the dead leaves on the branches it pulled aside. The hand was followed by an arm, attached to a trembling naked body, belonging to a terrified girl with wide eyes and wild red hair. She shuffled out from the foliage, huge eyes focused on the ground. There were leaves trapped in her tangled hair, dirt smeared over her bare skin. The only thing she wore was a white hospital bracelet, still wrapped around her wrist after two days of wandering in the woods.

"Lydia?" I breathed. The whole world seemed deadly silent, though whether that was because everyone else had noticed her too or because I'd blocked out everything that was not Lydia, I wasn't sure. I took a step forward, but she seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of her eye and flinched. I forced myself to come to a stop again. "Lyd?" Her eyes finally flicked up to mine, still watery and out of focus for a moment. I was certain that the silence behind me was real now, everyone watching with baited breath as she inched her way onto the road. "Lydia?" I asked one last time. She snapped her mouth shut, swallowed, and nodded.

With that confirmation, my world snapped into motion once more. I leapt forward, seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her to my chest. I wrapped my arms around her shivering body, burying my face in her hair and finally letting the tears fall out of my eyes. I could hear myself talking, sobbing and muttering apologies and thank you's and prayers and whatever else wanted to pour out of my mouth. I tried to pat down her hair as soothingly as I could, but it was a tangled mass and my hands were trembling violently. I settled for hugging her, adamant to never let go in case she slipped through my fingers once more. I couldn't handle that.

It took me a few seconds to remember that Lydia was shivering too, infinitely more than I was. I pressed my palms flat against her skin and instantly pulled them back, like I'd laid them on a slab of ice. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. Here, here, here, I'm sorry." I promptly ripped off my leather jacket, grabbing her hands so I could guide her arms into the sleeves. I pulled my cardigan off too, and did my best to tie it sideways around her waist like a skirt. She made a soft coughing sound as she tried to speak, but I was already yanking off my boots, helping her step into them even though her feet were smeared with mud and blood. "Do you want the dress too?" I asked frantically, reaching back for the zipper.

"No," she managed to say. Her voice was hoarse and shaky, and the word came out muffled, as if her lips were still trying to remember how to form words. But at least she could speak.

I narrowed my eyes at her, the back of my dress already undone. "Lydia, you are taking this dress. You've been outside, naked for over twenty-four hours. It's a miracle you're not frozen solid."

"And I'd rather freeze to death than wear something that hideous. Seriously, where did you even get that?"

I stared at her for a moment, emotions incessantly shifting between fear, guilt, frustration, amusement and mind-numbing relief. In the end, the last one won out. I released a watery bark of laughter and launched myself at her again, kissing her head before securing her against my chest.

I heard her let out the ghost of a laugh too, relieved to be alive, relieved to be back, relieved that her attempt to seem normal had been accepted for the moment. She wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me as tightly as she could in her weakened state. She propped her head on my shoulder. "Are you all just going to stand there and gawk at the two half-naked teenagers? Because some help would be appreciated!"

My face split into a wide, genuine smile for the first time in days, and I pulled back from Lydia to wipe my eyes. I looked over my shoulder to find everyone staring at us, some apprehensive, some clearly relieved. But no one nearly as comical as Stiles.

His jaw was hanging completely slack, and even from this distance I could see the red splotches forming in his cheeks. His maple eyes were wide, locked on Lydia and I as they darted from inch to inch of exposed skin. It was pretty amusing when I thought he was only staring at the recently naked Lydia Martin, but I'd done a fairly good job of covering her. It wasn't until a breeze blew across the road and I shivered that I remembered that I'd undone the back of my dress in preparation for giving it to Lydia, and was now showing off my bare back and bra straps to half the police force of Beacon Hills, my crush, and his father.

My cheeks seemed to sear as the blood rushed to my face, and I hurriedly turned around and scrambled to do up my dress once more. But Stiles didn't seem to mind. He stood there gaping, one hand absent-mindedly reaching for his dad's jacket as if he were going to pull it off. He took about half a step toward us and then toppled forward, tripping over his own feet and careening to the ground. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, and Lydia snorted next to me.

Sheriff Stilinski rolled his eyes in exasperation, pulling off his own jacket and stepping over his son's flailing body. "Yeah. Here you go." He jogged over to us, wrapping the coat around Lydia's shoulders as a second layer. It was long on her, coming down around her thighs and thankfully covering everything that my cardigan couldn't.

I helped her zip the jacket up to her chin, her own fingers still trembling too much from the cold. Then I wound one of her arms around my shoulders, and wrapped one of mine around her waist. "Come on. Let's get you to the hospital."

The sheriff rested a careful hand on her shoulder, and we helped her shuffle forward towards the cruiser. Stiles had scrambled to his feet and rushed over with his hands outstretched, looking for someway to help.

"Don't even think about it, Stilinski," Lydia shot.

He immediately took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender and grimacing. He shot me a nervous look and moved his hands to rub at the back of his neck.

I bit my lip and ducked my head, trying to concentrate on the thin arm wrapped around me. I had to take care of Lydia. She was back, and I was relieved, but I had to make sure that she was okay.

The sheriff helped her get into the back seat of the cruiser and then jumped into the driver's seat. I sent her a small smile through the window, and then rushed around to the passenger side. I was about to get in when Stiles stepped in front of me, his cheeks still pink and his plaid over-shirt in his hands.

I raised my eyebrows, letting my eyes trail down his bare arms where his hair stood up on end. "No really, Stiles, I'm fine. Put your shirt back on."

"Hey, at least I have pants," he countered, nodding to my stockings, which suddenly felt a lot less thick then they had when I put them on that afternoon. I shuffled on my feet, still blushing slightly, but Stiles just brandished the shirt at me again. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Shirt. Come on."

I made a show of rolling my eyes, and snatched the shirt out of his hands. I pulled my hair over one shoulder, sliding my arms through the warm, flannel sleeves and tugging the shirt tight around my torso. He smiled at me, one of those small, sweet smiles that made my stomach jump into my chest. I pressed my lips together, trying to force the pleased smirk off my face, and mumbled my thanks. Then I quickly ducked into the car and shut the door behind me.

Even if Lydia's attitude was completely intact, she'd still been wandering around the woods for forty-eight hours. The backseat of the police cruiser was probably the first place she'd sat down since her hospital bed. As soon as she'd climbed inside, the exhaustion seemed to catch up with her. She was curled up on her side, hands lying under her head with her knees curled up to her chest. As gently as I could, I slid her closer to me, letting her rest her head in my lap as I grabbed my phone from my purse.

Sheriff Stilinski threw the car into drive once his son was safely situated in the front seat. As soon as we were well on our way to the hospital, I called Lydia's mother. She was frantic, but obviously relieved. She broke down crying on the other end, thanking me and the sheriff and God and whoever else she could think of for keeping her baby safe. I told her that she should meet us at the hospital, and once I was sure that she would tell everyone else that needed to know—namely my mother and the cringe-worthy Mr. Martin—I hung up the phone. Judging by the incessant tapping from the front passenger side, Stiles had already told Scott and Allison that we'd found Lydia, so after a quick text to my mother I dropped my phone back into my bag.

I went to work trying to pick the leaves out of Lydia's hair. It was difficult, trying to pry them out without pulling on the knots in her locks, but it gave me something to focus on, something productive to do that also allowed me to focus all my energy on my best friend.

I was almost done when she shifted in my lap, turning her head to blink up at me.

"Sorry," I whispered with a teary smile. "Did I wake you up?"

Lydia's face scrunched up slightly and moved her head, but the action was so small I couldn't tell whether it was a shake or a nod. She licked at her chapped lips and then winced, pushing herself closer to me. "I don't want to sleep. I can't..."

I gave her a tight smile as my eyes began to tear up again. "It's okay. You're back, Lydia. And I'm not going to let anything else happen to you. I promise."

She blinked up at me for a few seconds, then grabbed one of my arms and pulled it to her chest, snuggling it close to her for security. I had a brief flashback to the first time we'd been attacked together, Lydia curled up in the fetal position in bed, then drugged up and loopy and hugging my arm to her chest. Everything had been so much simpler then. I hadn't been hiding anything from her, because I hadn't known anything myself. It only took a glance to the front seat to remind me I didn't wish that none of it had happened, but God, what I wouldn't give to be able to keep Lydia out of it.

"Thank you," she mumbled, letting her eyes droop closed again.

My smile faltered, and I gently brushed the hair out of her face.

"Don't thank me yet."

* * *

**A/N: Whoo-hoo! Some tension filled scenes, and now Lydia is back! I didn't think I was going to be able to update until later this week, but apparently my ability to procrastinate is stronger than I thought. So I'm uploading this now as a reward for making it through 66% of my finals before I go study for my last one.**

**Thank you for all your support, reading and following and messaging. Thank you for the lovely reviews I got from emele807, a. Paper. heaRt, randi101, Emmalee Adams, AliCullen, kenhat, Bookiee, TWsos12345, Guest, LionHeartMisfit, TwilightWorshipper14, jay, Dark G0ddess, MessintheMirror, kaljara, and Holly.**

**So excited to hear what you think of these new developments. Let me know!**

**-Brittney**


	5. Chapter 5

Lydia ended up having to spend the night in the hospital. The exhaustion had hit her hard, and she was suffering from hypothermia and dehydration. But miraculously, the damage wasn't nearly as extensive as it could have been. Even after she'd been wandering in the woods naked for as long as she had, she didn't have another scratch on her. The bite had continued to heal at a normal pace. She hadn't gotten frostbite. She didn't even seem to have cut herself on a branch. She was smeared with dirt and covered with leaves, but other than that she was perfectly fine. Obviously everyone was ecstatic to hear that. Well, except me.

Of course, I was relieved that she hadn't been hurt. It was just odd. Lydia had been screaming, running frantic, panicked out of her mind, and yet not a single branch had managed to nip her skin. It was more than just strange. It was unnatural. And unfortunately, I knew from personal experience that unnatural explanations were all too common in Beacon Hills.

But really, that just made it more important for me to stay close to her. Miss Eleanor, my mother and I all spent the night in Lydia's hospital room, tucked away with food, comfy clothes, movies, and the occasional doctor to check in on us. Mr. Martin had ducked out in favor of his fancy, family-free apartment, remembering that he had a very important business meeting to attend the next day within an hour of Lydia's return. Not that any of us were really upset. It was better that way. Just Miss Eleanor, my mom, Lydia and I, curled up on chairs, flipping through magazines, carefully brushing the knots out of Lydia's hair, and taking naps in turns. Like a family.

Lydia and I both spent a large portion of the next day sleeping—she to beat the exhaustion of walking around outside for over twenty-four hours, and me to beat the exhaustion of worrying about her. Sometimes we both tried to squeeze on the cot, but hospital beds aren't really built for sleepovers. For the most part we slept just like we had all the previous weekend, with Lydia on the bed and I in the chair at her side. We woke up for a late lunch, food that our mothers had smuggled in, but it was a quiet day, something we all appreciated after the week we'd had.

Scott had also texted me in the morning to make sure that I was okay. While he hadn't been the one to find Lydia, he'd apparently found something infinitely more disturbing. He assured me that Lydia had not been the one tearing up corpses. There was a new werewolf in town, a lone wolf who was looking to join forces with Derek. Or at least, he had been, before Allison's family caught up with him. Derek had shown up and held Scott back from helping, forcing him to watch as Gerard pulled a broadsword out of nowhere and cut the shapeshifter in half.

I'd shuddered in my chair when I read that. I'd assumed that Gerard was dangerous, sure, but he was so beyond any sort of danger we'd encountered before. Beyond Peter, beyond the rest of the Argents. And if Derek was right—if he was declaring war on all of the werewolves in Beacon Hills and doing away with the code—then maybe Derek _did_ have a right to be worried. Maybe we all did.

Maybe that's why I was so reluctant to follow Scott's request. Allison had stopped by the hospital after school to visit Lydia and I, but I didn't breathe a word about what Scott had told me. I knew that he was just trying to protect her. Allison had found out enough terrible things about her family in the last month—they killed things for living, her aunt had once burned a house of innocent people to the ground, and even after everything that had happened, her dad was willing to shoot her boyfriend's face off. He didn't want her to worry about what the rest of her family could be like. He didn't want her to worry about losing him. And so he didn't want her to know that, should her grandfather find out that he wasn't human, the fact that Scott had saved their lives and never hurt a living soul wouldn't be enough to save him.

But I didn't completely agree with his decision. Sure, in theory we were protecting Allison, but how well had that worked out last time? It wasn't like she was still blind to everything going on around her. She knew the truth now, about the supernatural, about her family. As far as I was concerned, that meant she was entitled to know the truth around the risks she was taking, especially when it came to the safety and happiness of my friends like it did in her relationship with Scott. So I compromised. I wouldn't tell Allison outright, but if she brought it up and asked me, I wasn't planning on hiding anything.

Luckily for Scott, she didn't ask me a thing. She came by with some cookies, magazines and nail polish, and we spent the afternoon together like normal teenagers, giving each other manicures, and filling each other in on petty gossip. Lydia made us fill her in on everything that had happened between me and Stiles while she was missing in action. Allison seemed to do more gushing than I did, but we both kept to the version of the story I'd told to my mother—first kiss sans werewolves. Lydia had basically screamed and pulled me into a hug that probably would have crushed me if she were back to her full strength, and then slapped me upside the head and scolded me for not leading with the vital, life-altering information that I'd had my first kiss. It was nice to just be girls for a while, talking about boys and ignoring the hospital walls that were blocking us in. Lydia tried to be snippy and bitchy, but genuine smiles kept creeping through the façade. I could tell she was relieved by Allison's visit, glad that I wasn't the only person in town who still wanted to be friends with her. At least some things wouldn't be changing.

But as soon as Allison left, all the normalcy seemed to drain from the room once more. We all pretended not to notice, but there was a tension slowly welling up in all of us. Pages of magazines were turning faster, incessant tapping on any surface, doctors poking their heads in more and more frequently. Everyone was just waiting for the sun to go down, for the sky outside to turn black, because everyone was waiting to see whether or not Lydia was going to snap again. We didn't voice our concerns, but Lydia could obviously guess why we were worried. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed, and she sat up properly in bed. It was as if she was bracing herself, determined to prove that she was better than that. She wanted to prove to us, and maybe to herself, that she was completely and utterly sane.

Time inched by slowly, each tick of the clock ringing loudly through to the room to the point that it was almost too much to bear. The sky got darker and darker, and Lydia was still sitting calmly in bed, inspecting her nails and pretending that she wasn't glancing at the clock every few minutes. She was anxious of course, but she was still here. And really, that was all I could ask for.

A couple hours after sunset, the doctors came in to pronounce that Lydia was cleared to go home. They suggested that she rest, not engage in any strenuous activity that might cause the wound on her side to open, and that she spend as much time as possible around other people. I could tell that Lydia wasn't too pleased with that order—she didn't want someone breathing down her neck because the hospital thought she needed a babysitter—but the doctor insisted that this was the best precaution to make sure that whatever had happened to cause her to run off didn't happen again. Really, keeping watch was the only solution the doctors could think of, because no one knew exactly what _had_ happened to Lydia. They asked her again and again, but all she remembered was getting in the shower, and then being found on the road. There were short flashes of memory in between—cold and trees and whatnot—but for the most part her mind was completely blank. The doctors didn't know how to handle that, besides to hope it wasn't going to happen again, and to keep her from running away if it did. So unfortunately, it was this, or stay over at the hospital again. Needless to say, Lydia picked the babysitter.

I ended up designating myself to watch over Lydia. I didn't want her out of my sight for too long, as I was the only person in the house who knew what was really going on. Or rather, I was closest to knowing what might be going on. I also argued that, at least with me, Lydia could feel more like it was a sleepover instead of someone on the night watch. It only took a little debate for our mothers to agree, but I still left the final decision up to Lydia. I would stay in her room only if she wanted me to. I didn't want her to be alone, but I also didn't want her to wake up in a daze and panic when she saw someone else in her room. But eventually she'd agreed she'd rather have me there. She didn't want to be treated like some fragile glass doll, but she was smart enough to know when to take precautions.

The night was tense, but went as well as could be expected. Everything was exacted with extreme precision and routine. Have dinner, take medication, change into pajamas, brush teeth, go to bed. Every time I woke up to go to the bathroom there was a slight jolt in my stomach, a constant fear that I'd roll over in bed to find that she was gone, had slipped through my fingers while she was asleep. But Lydia stayed exactly where she was, conked out on her side and cuddled up in her own sheets. It didn't mean that I didn't sprint to and from the bathroom because I didn't want to leave her alone, but at least there was a sense of relief every time I returned. I hadn't quite failed her yet.

However, the biggest jolt I got was waking up the next morning. The light was creeping in through the curtains, filling me with an odd sense of victory. We'd done it. We'd lasted the night. But then I noticed the empty sheets next to me.

I sprang up out of the bed. "Lydia?!" I ran to the windows, checking that they were still shut tight. I went to run out into the hallway and nearly collided with her head-on as she walked back into the room.

"Wow, yes. Good morning. Chill out."

I glared at her, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Lydia, what are you doing?"

"Coming back from the bathroom? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was a crime to have a bladder."

I sighed in frustration, quickly pulling her into my chest in a hug. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

I felt her chin dig into my shoulder as her whole head moved with the force of her eye roll, but she hugged me back just the same. "Because I don't need your help using the restroom. Sorry that you flipped the hell out, but seriously. Calm down."

She pushed me off of her and walked over to her dresser. I nodded to myself and forced my lungs to take a few deep breaths. I couldn't be around Lydia all the time. She was smart, she was safe, and she was going to be okay if it was the last thing I did. We were just going to have a normal, safe day at home. Watch some movies, eat comfort food, and sit around in our pajamas.

Only it was then that I noticed that Lydia wasn't wearing her pajamas anymore. She was wearing a form fitting maroon dress, black high heels already on her feet, looking in the mirror and applying copious amounts of concealer to hide the bags under her eyes.

"Um, what are you doing?" I asked, scrambling around the bed to stand behind her.

She spared me half a glance in the mirror, smoothing out her makeup like a second skin. "Getting ready for school? I thought it'd be better to show up in actual clothes instead of my nightgown."

"School?" I repeated incredulously. "Lydia, you can't be serious."

"I am one hundred percent serious," she said, fluffing her hair with a spare hand. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Maybe because you have a huge bite in your side? Or the fact that you're still recovering from prolonged exposure to extreme weather conditions?"

Lydia huffed, capping her concealer and glaring at me in the mirror. "Did you go?"

"What?"

"To school," she elaborated, rolling her eyes. "Did you go to school after the attack?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Even though you have huge gash marks on your shoulder and I was missing?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then kindly stop being a hypocrite and stop talking." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and snatched her lip gloss off the dresser, obviously too frustrated to remember that she was not up to that part in her process yet. I quickly stepped forward, gently taking her wrist and pulling the lip gloss away from her. She fought for a moment, but then stared at the gloss in realization. Her face softened as she dropped it with a sigh. "I just… I can't stay here," she said, leaving her eyes fixed on the counter top. "I can't have you and my mom and your mom all breathing down my neck, watching me like some sort of time bomb and I'm gonna… I don't know, go round the bend again… I'm not crazy."

I took her hand bracingly, leaning my elbows on the dresser. "Trust me, Lyd. I know you're not crazy. I didn't want to stay home with them either."

"Then you know," she said. "If anything, it's staying at home that's gonna make me lose my mind. Besides, the longer I'm out of school, the more people are going to suspect that there's something wrong with me. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"I know, Lydia."

"Then why don't you want me to go?" she asked, her eyes moving to look up at me from under her lashes.

I sighed and looked away. I had plenty of reasons I didn't want Lydia to go to school. I wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her, and I didn't want her to get hurt. I didn't want her to hurt someone else, and judging by what Deaton had said, that was looking like a distinct possibility. And it didn't help that it was the night of the full moon.

I had promised her that I was going to tell her everything. Even if she didn't remember, I had promised to explain. It was so hard with her looking at me like that, so meek and innocent. Okay, so maybe innocent wasn't the right word to describe Lydia, but she still didn't know anything. She still had no idea about the werewolves and the hunters and the danger. I wished more than anything that I didn't have to ruin that image for her. But she was already involved, and I was going to have to tell her at some point. And it would most likely be helpful for me to give her fair warning before she started transforming when the moon came up, even if she didn't believe me.

I had to tell her. But where was I supposed to start?

"Hold on," she said abruptly, her voice no longer quiet or shy as she narrowed her eyes at me. "Is this about Stilinski?"

"What?" I squeaked. "No! No, this is—this is not about Stilinski."

"Oh my God," she gasped, pulling away from me to face me head on. "It totally is. This is totally about you not wanting to talk to Stiles!"

"Lydia, it really isn't!"

"Look, I get that after the first kiss things can be kind of awkward, but you cannot use me as an excuse anymore. You kissed him, he kissed you, so go get your twitchy, horribly-dressed man."

"Yes, thank you, Lydia," I said through clenched teeth. "But this really isn't about me being nervous to…"

"Fine, fine," she cut me off, waving a hand. "We'll pretend that this has nothing to do with your boyfriend and that you're solely worried that going to school and being around other people is going to completely and utterly break me. Either way, we are going to school, so you should go to your room and put on the nice outfit I laid out for you."

"Outfit?" I repeated dubiously.

She shrugged. "I got up early and wanted to do something useful. Now shoo!"

Lydia ushered me out into the hallway and shut the door behind me. I groaned, scratching slightly at my forehead as I contemplated going back in to explain the real problem. But knowing Lydia, she was in no mood to listen. She wanted to believe that everything was perfectly normal, and I anything I said to the contrary she would brush off as my trying to manipulate her for my own purposes. I wasn't sure whether I should be upset that she wouldn't listen or relieved that I didn't have to tell her just yet. They both felt wrong.

So instead I decided to hold out judgment. I shook my head and accepted the situation, shuffling back to my room so I could get ready for school. I brushed my teeth and my hair before changing into the clothes Lydia had set out. Thankfully, and surprisingly, she hadn't gone for anything too fashionable. There was a short denim skirt and an admittedly very low cut white tank top, but I wore it under a dark blue plaid button-down, sleeves rolled above my elbows. I slipped on the knee-high black boots, did my makeup, and walked right back out the door.

I was downstairs with my bags a few minutes before Lydia. Presumably, she was taking an extra amount of time today to ensure that she looked perfect for her grand re-entrance. Mom and Miss Eleanor were sitting quietly at the kitchen counter, both sipping at tea and trying to make themselves busy so the anxiety about Lydia and I going to school wouldn't take over.

"Morning," I said, kissing my mother on the cheek. She echoed the greeting, keeping her eyes locked on her mug as she stirred the contents and bobbed the tea bag in and out of the water. I watched her closely, suddenly struck by an idea. "Hey, do we have any tea diffusers?"

Miss Eleanor's head lifted up from her mug, eyes narrowed in thought. "We should…somewhere around here…" She quickly got up and started shuffling through drawers, sifting around until she pulled a netted spoon from the back of one of them.

I accepted it graciously, grabbing my purse and pulling out the bag of tea that Deaton had given me. I scooped some of the leaves into the net and snapped it shut, then grabbed a travel mug from one of the cabinets to fix the drink.

I usually wasn't a huge fan of tea—or coffee for that matter—but something about the leaves was nagging at me. I took a few sips, relieved to find that the slightly spiced taste was pretty enjoyable. I instantly felt the heat seeping through my body, tendrils of warmth stretching down my throat and out into my limbs. Every part of me seemed to tingle for a moment, until the sensation passed, only renewed by the next large sip of tea. But I was only able to enjoy a few euphoric gulps in peace before Lydia came marching down the stairs.

"Sadie, hurry up! Are you ready to go? Let's go."

It actually took us another ten minutes to leave the house. Mom and Miss Eleanor both kept coming up with excuses—"Oh do I have to call ahead?" "Do you want to take this car instead?" "Do you have all of your work done?" "Are your cell phones charged?"—but they were only delaying the inevitable. Eventually, Lydia brushed them both off, snatched up her coat and bag and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind her. I winced as it shut, muttering an apology to both of the adults before scurrying after her. I wouldn't have put it past her to drive off without me if she was that anxious to leave.

The ride was slightly tense, but I forced myself not to speak. Lydia was on edge, and still very delicate, and I didn't want to push her the wrong way. So instead I just put on some music, selecting her favorite CD and sitting back to wait for her to unwind. It was a visible process. She eased up on the gas pedal, stopped making so many short stops. Her hands loosened on the steering wheel and her back relaxed to rest on the back of her seat. I had to smile as I watched. At least she would be alright for now.

I thought I'd been doing a pretty good job until we got to the school. Lydia was just pulling up to the front of the school when she slammed on the breaks, sending me flying forward into my seatbelt, which squeezed all of the air out of my chest.

"Oh my God!"

"Out of the car," Lydia demanded evenly.

My jaw dropped incredulously, looking from her straight face to the very open road in front of us. "What?"

"Out of the car! Now! Go!" She smacked me repeatedly on the arm until I final started to undo my seatbelt.

"Okay! Ow! Fine! I'm going!" I rushed to collect my bag from the floor, tumbling out the car and slamming the door behind me. Hardly a nanosecond after it closed, Lydia was speeding off through the parking lot once more to find a spot. I glared after the car and rolled my shoulder, trying to ease the pain from the seatbelt. "Seriously?" I grumbled, before scuffing my boot into the ground and walking to the sidewalk. But I hadn't made it two steps before the reason that Lydia had kicked me out of the vehicle became painfully obvious.

"Sadie! Hey!"

I froze on the spot and whirled around, immediately spotting the bright red plaid shirt that was walking toward me. "Stiles. That explains a lot."

"What?" he asked, jogging the last few steps towards me.

I shot him a nervous, overly wide smile. "Nothing! Uh… You're kinda early. What's up?"

"Morning practice," he said, patting the duffle bag at his side and vaguely gesturing at the lacrosse stick that was hooked on his backpack.

I nodded vigorously. "Yes. Right. Lacrosse."

"Yeah, um… 'tis the season, so…"

I giggled, a high, wavering, disgusting sound that I immediately tried to cut off as Stiles nodded awkwardly. I pressed my lips together, trying to force a calming breath through my lungs.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked, scratching at the back of his neck. "I mean, I didn't expect to see you or Lydia for at least a week."

"Well, you know Lydia," I sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "The faster things are back to being normal, the happier she'll be."

"Yes. True." He brandished a finger at me and then lowered his head. I followed suit, and we ended up standing there for a few quiet seconds admiring each other's shoes.

It probably shouldn't have been as awkward as it was. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been. But I hadn't said a word to Stiles since his father had dropped Lydia and I off at the hospital. I'd seen Allison, spoken to Scott. I'd even had a decently long conversation with Danny about everything from finding Lydia to his disastrous date the night of the formal. But I hadn't said even a word to Stiles. And now that he was finally standing in front of me, I kind of felt like I was going to be sick.

"So…" he started, making my eyes jump back to his face. "So, Lydia's good?"

"Um, yeah. She's good."

"She's okay? I mean, like… She's gonna be totally fine?"

"Well, um… I guess it's hard to say, what with tonight and all."

"Tonight?" he repeated, before his eyes flew wide. "Right! Tonight. Moon. Things. Yeah…."

"But, yes," I continued, more to convince myself than him. "Lydia's gonna be okay."

"Okay," he said with a nervous smile. "I'm… I'm glad that you know that. And that you're back at school. Here." He winced and clamped his mouth shut, making me smirk.

"Yes. Me too… I guess I should, uh…"

I paused, and Stiles's head snapped up. I opened my mouth but absolutely nothing came out. I just let those maple eyes bore into me until I felt my stomach tumble, threatening to jump out of my throat and onto the sidewalk between us.

"I should go find where Lydia parked," I blurted.

"Hm?" Stiles raised his eyebrows, and I tried to ignore the disappointment that flashed across his irises. "Oh. Yeah. Right."

"Have fun at practice."

"Yes!" he agreed, running a hand over his hair. "Yes, I'll… I'll see you later."

"Later. Yes."

We stood there for a few seconds, each of us shuffling on our feet, before Stiles gave me a curt nod and scurried past me into the building. The moment he was gone, it was like a wave of emotions washed over me. Or maybe someone had just dumped a cold bucket of emotions on my head. I was partially relieved, partially furious with myself, and part of me still felt like I wanted to puke.

Lydia jumped out from nowhere, grabbing onto my arm with a manic grin on her face. "So?! What did you say?!"

I bit my lip, running my fingers through my hair in distress. "I, uh…told him to have fun at practice."

Lydia's smile evaporated. "What?"

"I told him to have fun at his morning lacrosse practice."

She stared at me for a few seconds before violently smacking me upside the head.

"Ow!"

"Seriously?! Sadie, you are unbelievable. Unbelievable!" She pushed her bookbag into my arms and brandished a manicured finger in my face, glaring fiercely. "That was the perfect…! Just…! Ugh! Just hold my stuff. Hold it until you learn to be a strong, determined, decisive woman!"

"Lydia, that doesn't make any…"

"Sh! No! No speaking! God, Sadie!"

A gentle giggle broke through our arguing, and we both turned to see Allison striding up to us. "Geez, what did Sadie do to get in the dog house?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Lydia quickly raised a finger and scowled at me. I rolled my eyes, pressing my lips together and crossing my arms over my chest. Allison raised an eyebrow.

"Sadie promised Stiles that they would talk about their standing after I was better, and instead of talking about their relationship, she decided to talk about lacrosse."

"Sadie!" Allison scolded, and I grimaced.

"I never actually said I was going to talk to him."

Lydia slapped me again, making me jump back with a yelp. "Sadie, seriously. He kissed you. I am so over this whole nervous act you're pulling."

I sent her a reproachful glare, but Allison just laughed, taking a step between us and leading the way up the path to the building. "So I guess you're feeling better?"

"For the most part," Lydia said, laying her coat over arms and crossing them over her chest. "Physically at least. I mean, I have no idea what happened at the hospital, and I don't remember a thing about the woods. It's like… It's like I just blacked out and woke up on the side of the road."

"You really don't remember anything?" Allison asked, glancing back at her in worry.

Lydia shrugged. "They called it a fugue state, which is a basically a way of saying, 'We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days.'" I sent her a sympathetic glance, hoisting her bag higher on my good shoulder, but the moment she saw it she shook her head. She scoffed and forced a smile on her face. "But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds! And don't you dare ruin that for me!" She brandished her finger at me again, and I reluctantly shut my mouth, biting back my comment about how unhealthy losing nine pounds in twenty-four hours was.

Thankfully, Allison had not been issued a command of silence. She smiled sweetly and patted Lydia's arm, immediately seeing through the mask of self-confidence. "Are you ready for this?"

"Please," Lydia scoffed, faking innocence. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer." She smirked as Allison's smile fell, and quickly pushed her way through the front doors of the school.

I took a moment to rest a hand on Allison's shoulder. If I knew her at all, her stomach had just given a small lurch at the casual, crass mention of her aunt, just as mine had. But Allison sent me a small, thankful smile, silently assuring me that she was fine. I smiled back, relieved that I didn't have to apologize for Lydia or try and explain her motives. She was nervous and uncomfortable, so she tried to manipulate the situation so someone else was just as uncomfortable as her. It wasn't nice, and it wasn't mature, but it was true. That's just the way Lydia operated.

Allison and I passed through the doors a moment later, but had to stop short to avoid ramming into Lydia's back. She'd frozen just a few steps through the doorway. Apparently, so had everyone else. Every single in the person had stopped what they were doing, and had turned to stare at the three of us in the doorway. A couple leaned into each other to whisper, a few snickered to themselves, and the rest just stood staring with apprehensive, judgmental faces. My stomach felt like a rock inside me, even if I knew that the stares were not meant explicitly for me. I narrowed my eyes and glared at everyone who was stupid enough to make eye contact with me. Allison smiled politely and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. And Lydia stood in front of both of us, her hands clasped in front of her as she fidgeted incessantly, her eyes darting around the hallway like a caged animal. I was tempted to reach out and take her hand, some attempt to comfort her and ground her in case she snapped again. But I knew she would hate that. She was only at school because she wanted to prove that she wasn't weak, and receiving any sort of comfort in front of such a large audience would directly undermine that goal. So I reluctantly kept my hands to myself.

After a few seconds of silence though, the hallway was still in a standstill. Allison shuffled a few inches forward, leaning into Lydia. "Maybe it's the nine pounds?"

I glared at her momentarily, entirely unamused by the slighting comment. But it seemed to snap Lydia out of her daze nonetheless. She lifted her chin and huffed, flicking a strand of perfectly curled strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes and the crowd in front of us, and then held her hand out to me, palm up. I stared at it for a few seconds until she flicked her wrist, ushering me to hurry up. I slid her bag off my shoulder, handing it to her so she could carry it herself. She adjusted the strap and slung her coat over one arm, then tossed her hair for good measure. I heard her take one last deep breath before she set her chin and strutted forward.

The crowd parted before her. Maybe it wasn't like old times. They weren't backing away out of respect, but rather fear and apprehension. But they parted just the same, and for the moment, that was enough for Lydia to pretend that everything was playing out exactly as normal.

I shared a quick look with Allison, both of us smirking in admiration of Lydia's determination and spunk. Then, after a short nod, we both followed after her, falling into stride a few steps beside on either side of her. It reminded me of the very first day I'd spent at Beacon Hills High School. All eyes on us, walking in formation, letting Lydia stride ahead and take the lead. Things were so far from being the same as they'd always been. But for now, it was nice to pretend.

We walked with Lydia to her locker, standing by her side as she traded out her books and coat. But as soon as she had retrieved her things, she slammed the door shut and turned around to glare at us.

"You can stop breathing down my neck now, thanks."

"What?" I asked, sharing a surprised look with Allison. "Lyd, I always walk you to your locker. It's kind of routine?"

"Well it doesn't feel like a routine," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It feels like I have two bodyguards completely freaking out over my safety when they don't have to be. And I do not need bodyguards."

"Okay?" Allison said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "So do you not want us to walk with you now?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "We're not in the same class. Why would you walk with me?"

"Because we're kind of friends," I reminded her. "And friends sometimes do this thing where they go out of their way to spend time with each other because they like each other?"

"Sadie, don't talk to me about people liking each other, okay?" she snapped, pointing viciously at my face. I rolled my eyes in exasperation and Allison giggled. "Seriously, I'm fine. Just, both of you go wherever it is you have to go, and I'll see you at lunch. I'm gonna go find Danny."

"Are you sure?" Allison asked with a small smile. Lydia gave her a pointed glare, not bothering with the response. "Okay, okay. You're sure. See you later."

"Text me if you need me," I added as she brushed past us. "I'm serious, Lydia! If you…!"

"I got it!" she called, waving a hand over her shoulder as she stalked away from us.

I watched her until she rounded the corner of the hallway and disappeared from my sight. Immediately, my stomach began to churl with worry. I didn't like being away from her. Not when something might happen.

Allison seemed to sense my unease, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Sadie, you need to relax. She's gonna be fine."

"You think?" I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the end of the hallway.

"It's Lydia. She's unstoppable. If anyone bothers her, she'll probably rip their heads off."

"That's kind of what I'm worried about," I hissed.

Allison forced herself to stop giggling, nodding in thought. "Do you really think she's turning?" she asked, nudging me back into motion so we could walk down the hall together, arms back at our sides.

"I don't know. I mean, that was the only option Deaton saw."

"She seems fine to me," Allison said with a shrug. She paused for a moment before continuing. "Look, I know you said that Deaton mentioned a delay in some symptoms, but do you really think there'd be this much of a delay on all of them? I mean, she hasn't started healing. She hasn't mentioned hearing anything weird or smelling anything weird. She could just be immune or something."

"Deaton said he'd never heard of immunity," I said, shaking my head. "If it's a human, they either turn or they die. And Lydia's obviously not dead. So if she's not turning, what else would it be?"

Allison bit her lip, considering the question for a few seconds before shaking it off. "Well, it's not something you can worry about now. She seems fine, and as long as she's fine, Lydia's going to do what Lydia wants. If something weird does start happening, I'm sure she'll tell you."

"Yeah," I sighed, keeping my eyes on the floor. "I hope so."

"On a lighter note," Allison said with a sly smile. "What happened with you and Stiles?"

I groaned, a reluctant smile making its way onto my face. "I don't know. I told him that Lydia was gonna be okay, and he just sort of stood there staring at me and I panicked. So I told him to have fun at practice."

Allison winced. "Ouch. That bad?"

"Terrible. I felt like I was gonna hurl."

"You know, he probably felt like that too," she reminded me. "Stiles is just as nervous as you are, if not more. He's trying to give you space to work things out with Lydia, but you can't keep pushing it off. She's fine, so take some time to worry about yourself. You've just got to go for it."

"I know, I know," I said, wringing the strap on my bag. "But what if he doesn't like me?"

Allison nearly stopped short and gave me a severely unimpressed look.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious!"

"And I seriously cannot believe you. He's worried out of his mind about you and you think he doesn't like you? I mean, have you seen the way he looks at you?" I bit my lip and looked away, too nervous to try and recall any time Stiles had set his eyes on me. "He's gonna say yes. He's just waiting for you to ask him."

"How am I supposed to ask him out?" I asked in despair. "I can barely look at him!"

Allison giggled and pushed me gently. "You can barely _stop_ looking at him. Just ask him before class."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because there are people in class! I can't even talk to him one on one. How am I gonna manage it with twenty other people watching?"

"Sadie, I will be right there with you. And you know, if you don't ask him, I might just have to go convince him how much you like him myself."

She smirked proudly and I glared at her, shoving her to the side. "You know what? Lydia's right. I don't want to walk with you either. I'll see you in class."

She laughed and waved me off. "Fine! I'll see you in a bit."

We parted ways to walk to our lockers, my stomach still tumbling from our conversation. I knew she wouldn't actually start blabbing to Stiles about how much I liked him or how nervous he was making me. She was too good a friend. But she did have a point. As far as I was aware, it'd been Stiles's first kiss too, and he was probably freaking out. He didn't deserve to have to worry about that though. I liked him. A lot. And I didn't have Lydia as an excuse anymore. I just had to suck it up and talk to him about it. Maybe not in class, but maybe during lunch or something. I just had to get it over with. And then, everyone could be happy.

"Hi, Sadie."

I let out an awkward squawk of surprise and jumped about a foot in the air as I noticed someone leaning on the wall next to me. I raised my eyebrows, taking in the lean figure and soft smile.

"Isaac, hey," I greeted, trying to catch my breath. "You uh…scared me…"

"Sorry," he said with a small grin.

"Um, how are you?"

"I'm…" He paused, nodding at the ground for a few seconds before he looked back up at me. "I'm good. Better than I've been in a while."

"Well, that's good," I said, closing my locker door. "At least this week has been good for someone."

His smile softened, and he pushed off the wall so he could stand properly in front of me. It suddenly struck me just how tall Isaac was. I'd never really noticed before, but today he stood tall in front of me, and I actually had to look up to meet his eye.

"I wanted to make sure that you were okay," he said, hands grabbing at the strap of his bag.

My eyes widened slightly, honestly caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "I'm fine."

"I was gonna try and see you at the hospital, but I wasn't sure if that'd be weird, and then I didn't come to school for a bit. Guess I just missed you."

"I'm fine," I said, nodding vigorously.

To my surprise, Isaac smiled. And it wasn't the feeble, forced smile I'd gotten used to. It wasn't even one of the small, genuine ones I'd had the privilege of seeing on occasion. This was a wide, lopsided grin, one that made his face light up like I'd never seen it do before. My eyes widened further, slightly baffled.

"You said that already," he said, his eyes crinkling slightly as he cocked his head to the side.

It took a second for his sentence to sink in, but when it did I let out a soft laugh. I shut my eyes and shook my head slightly. It looked like it was going to be one of those days where I just made an ass out of myself in front of every single person I interacted with.

"Yes, I did," I agreed, running a hand through my hair as I attempted to seem like the competent person I was supposed to be. "I just mean, uh… Thank you. For checking up on me. That's sweet. But…"

"But you're fine?" he guessed, quirking an eyebrow.

I smirked, and nodded in consent. "But I'm fine."

"Okay. I mean, if you say so." He shrugged, glancing up and down the hallway before he sighed. "Well, I've got to get to practice but… I'll see you soon, Sadie."

"Yeah, I'll uh…see you later, Isaac."

He took a couple steps backward, gave me one last smile, and then finally turned to make his way toward the locker room. I watched him go with a curious expression. Something was definitely new with Isaac. I realized, with a slight jolt, that this was the first conversation we'd ever had where he hadn't stuttered once. If anything, I'd been the one tripping up over myself. I wasn't sure what exactly had changed about him, but he certainly seemed happier. And honestly, that made me a little happier.

I smiled to myself, nodding my approval of this small development before I continued on my way to class.

I decided that, as much as I didn't like getting up early, it was a very good thing that we'd chosen to get to school as early as we did. I spent the time copying over Allison's notes from any and all of the classes we had together, while she attempted to explain everything I had missed in the day that I skipped. It was just one day, but I hated falling behind. Especially when a werewolf emergency might call for me to miss school without a moment's notice. After we'd gone over everything and I was generally secure with the material, Allison went back to preaching to me about Stiles. Unfortunately, this time I had no escape. I had to sit there and bury my head in my books, try to keep myself from going insane as she suggested a myriad of situations that could arise that would allow me to breach the subject of my potential relationship with Stiles. It made me sick even just thinking about it, but I knew she was right. I just had to talk to him. And I would. The moment he walked through the door.

And yet, the best-laid plans always seem to go awry. The moment Scott and Stiles hurried into the door of our class, it was like my mind wiped completely blank. What the hell was I doing? I couldn't ask him out in front of all these people, Allison, Scott. If I fumbled over my words, made myself look like an idiot as I'd been doing all morning, they'd never let me hear the end of it. It had to be perfect. I had to know what I was going to say.

But fortunately for me, I never got the opportunity to think about what I was going to say. Stiles and Scott hurried into their desks, practically tumbling into their seats in their haste.

Allison giggled and raised an eyebrow. "Woah there. What's the rush?"

"We've got a problem," Scott said frantically.

Stiles nodded. "Huge problem."

Allison and I exchanged worried looks for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

"What is it?" I asked.

Stiles and Scott glanced at each other, and Stiles nodded for his friend to go ahead. Scott's hands tightened on the back of his chair as he looked around the classroom, checking to make sure that no one was listening in.

"Isaac Lahey's a werewolf."

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun dun. Okay, so I'm kind of really excited to be working on this now. Getting to the heart of the Sadles problem, and I get to start writing about Derek's pack too, which is always fun. Specifically Isaac, who always convinces me to write him more flirty than I had originally intended for him to be. Suave bastard. **

**Thank you, as usual, to everyone for reading and following. Thank you for the wonderful reviews I got from emele807, a. Paper. heaRt, cateslikescats, SimplyKelly, RedRoses5, Bookiee, Guest 1, Dark G0ddess, Hanna, enthusiastic-fan-and-reader, easythrowaway, Emmalee Adams, TWsos12345, Guest 2, Guest 3, Guest 5 (Tada! I brought back Isaac!), and aliciasellers75. **

**Also, if you guys are interested, I just started up my fanfiction for The Internship! It's called "I'm Feeling Lucky" and will feature an OC paired with Dylan's character in the movie, Stuart. It's my favorite movie, so I'm really excited to get to write it.**

**I know it's a busy time of year and I hate to sound gripey, but reviews have dropped a lot lately and that makes me super sad. I'm not sure if people aren't reading of you don't like it enough to review anymore or what. I'm sorry if that's the case. But it's the holidays and I would absolutely adore hearing from you guys!**

**Thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think!**

**Much love and happy holidays!**  
**-Brittney**


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you sure you're okay?" Lydia asked me for the third time that period.

"Yeah," I replied, glancing over at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She raised her eyebrows and gave a pointed look to my notebook. I followed her gaze, finally noticing the sea of black dots my pen was leaving on the corner of the page. The incessant tapping must have been going on for a while now, since the entire corner appeared to be almost solid black, slowly encroaching upon the equations scrawled at the top of my chemistry notes.

I winced. "Oh. Yeah. I'm just, uh…tired…"

Her eyebrows rose even further, thoroughly unimpressed by the excuse. "That is not tired. That is stimming."

"...What?"

"Repetitive self-stimulating activities, often a symptom of anxiety," she explained. She gave me a hard look, borderline glaring, as if daring me to be worried in her presence. "Are you currently suffering from extreme anxiety?"

I pursed my lips together and shrugged. "Nope. Just trying to keep myself awake."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at me for a few seconds, still skeptical, but eventually dropped the subject, muttering something along the lines of, "Whatever, weirdo," and turning back to her own notes.

She was right, of course. I was worried out of my mind. I was anxious about Lydia going back to school so quickly after the attack. I was afraid of having to talk to Stiles about whatever sort of relationship our friendship may or may not have been turning into. And now I was also worried about the fact that Isaac Lahey was the newest werewolf in Beacon Hills.

It certainly explained his strange behavior that morning. The bite must have been where he was getting his newfound confidence, his ability to stand tall and speak without stuttering. I also realized in retrospect that, for once, he hadn't even had the ghost of a bruise on his face. I wasn't sure just what kind of life he was leaving behind, but it wasn't too surprising to me that he preferred the strength and power that came with being a werewolf. He'd taken it as a way out, and he seemed so much happier. Part of me was still glad to see him so happy, but he hadn't experienced the danger we had. What with Gerard coming to town, and his apparent suspending of the code, I was more worried that I was going to find Isaac riddled with arrows before he could learn to control his powers.

But that wasn't enough. Our lives were far too complicated for that to be the only worry I had. Because immediately after discovering that Isaac had received the bite, before Scott could say a single word to him, Sheriff Stilinski had shown up. He'd pulled Isaac aside, bringing the entire morning lacrosse practice to standstill. Scott and Stiles had watched on with worry as Isaac spoke to the authorities. Apparently, Isaac's father had been found dead. And not just dead—brutally murdered in what remained of his car. The front door had been ripped off, and there was blood all over the interior and the pavement of the backstreet where the car had been parked. The police were still working on the details, but for the moment, they'd taken Isaac into custody.

That would have been a problem all on it's own, but on top of his impending incarceration, and on top of the fact that he was a newly turned werewolf, it was the night of the full moon. If the police considered him a suspect, they'd be allowed to lock him up at the station for twenty-four hours. Whether or not they'd actually be able to contain him for that long was another question. Once the moon came up, it was anyone's guess what Isaac would be able to do, or who would be hurt in the process.

So, yes. I was more than a little anxious as I was forced to sit through chemistry as if nothing in the world was wrong. Harris was droning on in front of the room, writing equations on the board that we were expected to copy down and then memorize. Students were passing notes, texting their friends as they poorly hid their phones in their laps or behind their purses. There was a boy sleeping in the back row, a girl staring out the window on the left side of the room. And not a single person seemed to be paying attention to the empty stool in the back of the room, usually occupied by the quiet boy with blonde curls who was currently in danger of slaughtering several innocent police officers, before being slaughtered himself.

I looked over at Isaac's empty seat with worry. Allison caught my eye, a few seats away. She sent me small, supportive smile that I barely managed to return.

None of us really knew Isaac, but I was certainly the closest to him. I was really beginning to regret not following through on the promise I'd made to myself before school started up, to become actual friends with him. He'd just been a quiet kid who didn't have a lot of friends, someone who was shy and guarded. Maybe if I'd taken the chance to get to know him, he wouldn't have felt the need to get confidence through something as dangerous as the werewolf bite. But there was no way to be sure it could have prevented this.

I knew how desperate Derek must have been for a pack. After meeting Gerard, I almost had to agree with him. Maybe him having betas for backup was vital to his survival. Still, I wished he could have bitten someone I didn't actually know. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty about getting someone else involved in the dangerous shit show our lives had become. Or maybe I would still feel just as sick. I'd get to know them eventually, right? And then it would hurt just as much if and when I had to watch them die.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy three," Mr. Harris instructed, breaking me out of my increasingly morbid thoughts. I jerked my head slightly, trying to shake myself out of my daze so I could actually pay attention to my schoolwork. However, in the next second it became very obvious to me that focusing on my studies would be impossible.

Just as I went to grab my textbook from my bag, a wad of paper went soaring towards the front of the room. It collided solidly with the back of Harris's head, then dropped to the floor where it rolled a few feet away, as if the paper itself were afraid of its target's reaction. Mr. Harris froze as the class erupted into whispers and giggle fits, then spun on the spot, his eyes ablaze with the kind of silent fury that made most sensible students quiver in their seats.

"Who in the hell did that?"

The class looked around, curious eyes panning over the classroom as they searched for someone stupid enough to provoke one of the harshest teachers in Beacon Hills. Of course, I shouldn't have expected that level of stupidity from anyone except my own idiots.

Stiles and Scott immediately raised their hands, pointing firmly at each other with carefully composed expressions of innocence. I nearly groaned out loud, letting my head sink into my hands.

I heard Harris let out a near-satisfied sigh. "Mr. Stilinski and Mr. McCall. The pure insolence and audacity the two of you continue to exude never ceases to baffle and appall me. Frankly, it's a crime of the American educational system that the most I can do to punish you is to give up my own afternoon to detain you here, and stop you from destroying the lives of others as effectively as you seem to be destroying mine."

Stiles snorted. "Great, another routine detention with Satan. That's really gonna straighten out my attitude. Thank you."

I slowly lifted my head back out of my hands, my jaw dropped open and my eyes wide with pure and absolute horror. He was going to get himself killed. He was literally asking to get himself killed. Scott, at least, had the decency to look a little afraid for his life, but Stiles just leaned back on his stool, a smug smile on his face as he held his ground and stared the teacher down without a care in the world.

Harris was practically vibrating with rage now. Part of me was actually worried he would burst into flames. But when he spoke, he still managed to sound cool and collected. "Mr. Stilinski, I can hardly believe that the words are about to leave my mouth, but perhaps for once in your poignant life you may be right. Clearly taking it upon myself to try and further your discipline has made little no impact, so maybe you'd be better off in the hands of someone else. Both of you, to the principal's office. Now."

The boys shared a look for a moment before closing their notebooks and beginning to pack up their things. I shook my head as they stood, walking to the front of the classroom and nodding tersely to Mr. Harris as they passed. But to my surprise, when Stiles caught my eye as he passed my table, he looked utterly calm and extremely pleased with himself. He kept his hand low, but gave me a thumbs-up as he walked by, then held up a pointer finger to indicate that I should wait. What I was supposed to be waiting for, I hadn't a single clue. Harris began lecturing again the moment they were gone, but I stared at the door, waiting for some kind of signal.

Lydia saw the look and repressed a snort. "I hope they've got their will and testaments in order, because they clearly have a death wish."

"Uh huh," I agreed distractedly, eyes still glued to the tiny window in the door. But it seemed as though the two of them had actually left for the principal's office. My teeth ground together in frustration as I turned back to my work, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to concentrate.

I jumped slightly as I heard my phone vibrate in my purse. Lydia spared me a quick look of distain, but continued her methodical note taking. I glanced up at the front of the room, waiting for Harris's back to be turned before I snatched my phone out of my bag and hid it in my lap. The awaiting text message was from Stiles.

_"Dad's interrogating Jackson about Isaac. Further investigation required."_

I rolled my eyes as I finished the message. "Dumbass," I grumbled, before dropping the phone back into my bag.

I watched the clock, waiting about two minutes before I finally raised my hand to catch Mr. Harris's attention.

"Yes, Miss Bennet?"

"May I go to the bathroom?"

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and I didn't miss the way his eyes darted to the empty table my friends had left behind. "I'm sorry, Sadie. As pressing as you must find your own matters, I was looking for a student who could answer the question that I have…"

"The hydrogen-carbon-carbon bond angle is one hundred and twenty-one point three degrees," I said quickly, barely managing to contain my eye roll. "And the hydrogen-carbon-hydrogen bond angle is one hundred and seventeen point four degrees. Because ethene is a symmetrical molecule, the angles on the opposite ends are identical, leaving the molecule in balance with an even distribution of electrical charges, so it's non-polar. May I please go to the bathroom?"

Mr. Harris glared at me for a solid five seconds before grudgingly holding out the hall pass. I jumped out from my seat, accepting it calmly before scampering out the door. I made sure to turn in the correct direction towards the nearest bathroom, sure that Harris would be watching me like a hawk. Once I was out of sight, I simply turned down a different hallway, taking the long route towards the principal's office. Easy.

The boys were waiting in chairs outside the door when I walked up. Scott had his ear up against the window while Stiles leaned close to him, listening to whatever snippets of the conversation inside that Scott was repeating. I cleared my throat as I approached, drawing their attention away from eavesdropping for a moment.

"Seriously? Sadie, do you trust at all?" Stiles hissed. "We've got it under control. You didn't need to get detention just to check up on us."

"I didn't get detention," I said. "I got a bathroom pass, moron."

"…Oh…" His head bobbed slowly and a grimace slowly climbed its way onto his face. "Yeah, I… I guess that works too…"

My initial response would have been to smack him upside the head, and I almost did, but then he glanced up at me. His eyes flitted over my face, and suddenly the even thought of touching him in jest made my stomach twist. I settled for wrapping my arms around my torso, quickly turning my attention to Scott. "Um… Uh, so what's going on?"

"Jackson lives across the street from Isaac, so he's talking to the sheriff as a witness," Scott informed me, his eyes fixed on the end of the hallway in concentration.

"Witness to what?" I asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. I didn't want to believe that Isaac had actually hurt his father. I knew that for one reason or another his mother and his brother were no longer in the picture, and his father was the only family he had left. He just couldn't have done it. Besides, Jackson was a complete and utter dickwad, but if he'd seen someone get murdered, especially by a werewolf, he probably would have told someone. Hopefully us before the police.

Scott didn't answer immediately. When he finally lifted his head, he was looking at me with an expression of sympathy, almost a twinge of fear. "You're not gonna like it."

I rolled my eyes. "Scott, it's Jackass Whittemore talking about my friend who's recently been incarcerated for the potential murder of his father. In what universe do you think I'd even let myself hope I was going to like what he was saying?"

Scott cocked his head in consent, but the anxious expression didn't leave his face. "He uh… Isaac was… Jackson said that…" He licked his lips nervously, his hands waving slightly as he tried to find the best way to say whatever it was that Jackson had said.

Stiles leaned forward, propping is elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He cleared his throat slightly, pulling my attention away from Scott. "Apparently Isaac's dad was abusing him."

The whole world seemed to go silent for a few seconds. I felt my whole body freeze—lungs refusing to expand, heart refusing to pump. "Wha...? What?"

He simply nodded morosely, letting his eyes fall to the tile floor.

I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I blinked repeatedly, swallowed hard, but the world still felt like it was stuck. "Wha…? How? Since when?"

Stiles shook his head, one shoulder jerking up in an attempt to shrug. "Physically, mentally. I guess it's been going on for ages. I mean, I'm not gonna use Jackson's words, but it seems like it's been happening for years. No one ever said anything."

I stared down at the ground in horror, one hand absentmindedly lifting to run through my hair. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place. Isaac being so shy. Isaac never talking about home. Isaac hating his job with father, but never being able to complain or give a concrete reason as to why. Isaac shying away from kids at school, hating human contact. Isaac being easily frightened by sudden movements. Isaac's clumsiness, leaving him perpetually marred by scrapes or bruises that he'd gotten when he fell. Only he hadn't fallen. And I knew he hadn't fallen. I knew that there was something going on, that it couldn't just be that he was clumsy. But I'd marked it down to bullies. Some stupid jocks on the lacrosse team who liked to make fun of him for being a benchwarmer, for working at the cemetery, for not having a mom. I thought it was something that I could find out on my own, imagined that maybe I could put a stop to it. But I'd never imagined this. If he'd told me, if I had known…

What would I have done? I'd spent the entire summer trying to get Isaac to open up, to get him to talk to me about his life. But he'd never been comfortable enough to tell me what was wrong. It was understandable. I'd just moved to town, and there were people that he'd known for years that he hadn't told. He'd managed to keep all of his suffering a secret, hidden behind loose excuses about tripping or getting hit during lacrosse practice. I knew that he didn't have a lot of friends, but it still seemed baffling to me that no one had figured it out. Had no one else asked about his injuries? No students, no teachers? Had no one really figured it out, even after all that time?

No. Someone had figured it out. Someone had known. And someone had decided to not say a single fucking word about it.

"He knew?!" I demanded, my hands clenching into fists at my sides as I fought to maintain my composure. "Jackson knew the whole time and he didn't say anything about it?! To the police?! To Isaac?! To anyone?!"

Scott shook his head, his eyes fixed on the window to the main office once more. "He… He said it wasn't his problem."

"Oh well of course not," I spat, glaring at the glass that hid Jackson from our view. "Of course it wasn't his fucking problem. Why should anyone be motivated to try and help someone from suffering if they're not gonna get something out of it? Why would you try and stop someone from getting hurt when you could be sleeping or practicing lacrosse or putting some—some disgusting amount of gel in your hair? Who the fuck cares about other people?! Why would you care about anybody's wellbeing except your own?!"

"Whoa! Okay, Sadie, calm down," Stiles said, springing out of his chair and grabbing my shoulders.

It wasn't until he attempted to anchor me down that I realized that I was actually shaking. My fingers were trembling and my weight was shifting between my feet, desperate to move, desperate to go do something—anything—constructive. I hadn't been able to help Isaac. I'd said I was going to befriend him, help him to get over whatever anxiety was stopping him from making friends. I'd said I was going to help him, and I failed. I'd gone off with my own friends while he was at home, alone and afraid, being beaten and abused by his father. Well, just add him to the list of people I'd failed in Beacon Hills. My mom, Lydia, Scott, Stiles, and now Isaac. I just couldn't help anyone.

Before I could say any of this, the door to the main office opened. All of our heads snapped up, watching as Sheriff Stilinski and another police officer walked out into the hall. Stiles scrambled, pushing me in front of him, turning me around to face his father and then ducking behind my back, his hands still on my shoulders. Mr. Stilinski raised his eyebrows, watching with a dangerous level of exasperation as his son used me as a human shield. I smirked and shrugged, before Stiles dug his thumb into my back as a signal I should stop moving. I promptly swung my leg back and kicked him in the shin.

The sheriff shook his head slightly, obviously deciding it was better to humor Stiles now and deal with the problem later. "Hi, Scott," he said loudly.

Scott waved awkwardly, shooting Stiles and I a glance, but not speaking.

"And Sadie," Mr. Stilinski added, nodding to me. "You're not here to see the principal are you?"

"Not me," I answered with an overly wide smile, holding my hall pass up in the air. "Bathroom."

The sheriff nodded, then gave a pointed, questioning glance to the hands on my shoulders. I smiled sympathetically, silently informing him that Stiles actually was here to see the principal.

Mr. Stilinski wiped a hand over his forehead in frustration before simply throwing his hands up. "I'll see you kids later." He beckoned to his accompanying officer and headed down the hallway past us.

Stiles shuffled behind me, forcing us to pivot on the spot so I was continuously standing between him and his father.

I rolled my eyes, but waited until the sheriff had turned the corner and was out of sight before speaking. "You know you're an idiot, right?"

"More than an idiot. More of a certified retard," a new voice said from behind us.

I whirled around, narrowing my eyes as Jackson casually strolled into the hallway, his smug smirk firmly planted on his face. He shook his head as Stiles stood up and took a step back so he was even with my shoulder.

"Well, if you kids don't mind, I'm gonna try and find some uh, less lame company." His smirk widened as he turned around, walking towards the end of the hallway with a self satisfied spring in his step. And that was all it took for me to see red.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Jackson?!" I stormed forward, beating Stiles's hands away when he tried to hold me back.

Jackson turned around slowly, raising his eyebrows. "And what's that supposed to mean, Bennet?"

"You knew?! You knew all this time, and you just decided not to tell anyone?!"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Is it really that much of an inconvenience for you to pick up the phone and dial three fucking numbers?! He could have died!"

"But he didn't," he said with a shrug. "And it's not just the calling. Then it's testifying and proving it and all that other bullshit that I don't really have time for. Unlike some other people in this town, I don't go sticking my nose into other people's business. Better to let the wimpy freak figure it out on his own."

For a moment, I was absolutely frozen with rage. I couldn't close my mouth. I couldn't take another step forward. I was so beyond furious with Jackson and his cavalier attitude, that I honestly did not know what to do with myself. There were no words that would ever force Jackson to see how terrible what he'd done was, and I knew it. He was far too concerned with himself, unwilling to listen to anyone or care about anyone that wasn't himself, even for a second. And I'd had enough of it.

I let out a strangled noise and sprang at him, shoving him back a few steps, and then a few steps more.

He stumbled back, smug smirk finally replaced by an actual look of surprise. "What the fuck?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, pounding my hands into his chest and ripping my wrists out of his grasp when he tried to stop me. "I'm sorry, does this bother you?! Do you not like having someone hit you, you fucking asshole?!"

Jackson finally composed himself enough to shove me, and I actually toppled to the ground with the force of it. But I didn't care. It was a reaction. It was a crack in that soulless exterior that he was always showing off, and it was a crack that I intended to take advantage of.

I jumped back to my feet, lunging at him once more, but this time I didn't get to follow through.

A pair of arms suddenly wound around my waist, yanking me back. "Sadie! Sadie, stop!" Stiles pulled me to his chest, barely able to hold me back as I writhed and kicked.

Scott suddenly appeared too, grabbing Jackson and pulling him away from me. The boy beat him off though, standing his ground and trying to regain that invincible composure once more. Scott warily stepped back, trying to gauge whether or not Jackson was going to try and attack me again. Stiles's arms, however, didn't loosen on my waist. But just because he was holding me back didn't mean I was going to stop.

"No! Obviously you don't like it, you fucking douchebag! But who the fuck cares if someone else gets hurt?! Doesn't matter now! And you don't give a shit because now his father's gone and he can be a miserable, fucked up orphan just like you!"

I was thrashing too hard to truly enjoy watching Jackson freeze. The haughtiness, the confidence, the shock all melted of his face, leaving him completely emotionless. And then the mask contorted into pure rage. His eyes narrowed to slits, his eyebrows knitted together, and his lips curled back into a snarl. And for some reason, that made a bubble a pride swell up in my chest. Objective achieved.

"You fucking bitch," Jackson growled.

Before Scott could stop him, he jumped forward, his hands extended in front of him and poised like claws. I had just enough time to elbow Stiles in the stomach, forcing him to loosen his grip enough to release me. Then I swung my arm back up and punched Jackson in the face.

An explosion of pain shot up my arm from my knuckles, immediately making me cringe and let out a small squeak. Jackson and I stumbled back from each other, him cradling his head while I held my arm close to my chest. He pulled his hand away from his face, revealing the small trickle of blood coming from his nose.

He looked up at me in horror. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

I didn't reply. Instead I just stood there, glaring at him and breathing heavily as I tried to keep myself from punching him again. I felt Stiles take my arm and pull me a few steps back, just in case, gently prying my hand away from my chest.

"And what is all this racket out here?"

Jackson looked over my shoulder. His eyes went wide and he immediately raised a hand to point accusingly at me. "She—She just punched me!"

"And he was an asshole," I defended evenly, glaring at him ferociously.

It wasn't until I heard a vaguely familiar chuckling behind me that I turned around. And when I did, I froze dead in the middle of the hallway.

Gerard Argent was standing in front of the door to the office, dressed neatly in a button-down, slacks and a blazer. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and was watching our altercation with a highly amused smile. He took a few casual strides toward us, and I exchanged nervous looks with Scott and Stiles.

"Uh…um… Hi, Mr. Argent," I greeted, nodding my head towards him.

"Oh please, not Mr. Argent," he dismissed with a genial smile. "I'm sure that's what you call my son. Why don't we just stick with Principal Argent while we're in school? I'm sure that will be much less confusing."

"P-Principal?" Stiles managed to stutter out. "You? Since when?"

Gerard's sharp eyes snapped over to him, narrowing ever so slightly as they scrutinized and assessed him. Stiles immediately clamped his mouth shut. He and Scott weren't supposed to know who Gerard was at all. At least I'd been introduced.

"What he means," I said, stepping forward slightly and drawing Gerard's attention back to me, "is 'what happened to the previous principal?'"

The man narrowed his eyes at me as well, but it was accompanied by a smirk and a small nod. I couldn't tell if he was grinning at the explanation, or my cautious mediation between him and my friends. Either way, I did not like that smirk very much.

"Well, I don't believe that's really any of your concern, but if you must know he's decided to take a leave of absence," Gerard explained. "I've actually got a few years of, uh…authority experience, you could say. So I offered my assistance. Temporarily, of course."

I nodded, forcing myself to stand still and not exchange a worried look with Scott. Instead, I pushed a small smile onto my face. "Well that's…lucky. For us."

Gerard's smile grew, and than his eyes slid past me. "Mr. Whittemore, I think it's high time you returned to class. Or perhaps the nurse's office if your injury bothers you that much."

I heard Jackson shuffle behind me, presumably nodding before his footsteps receded down the hallway. That left Scott, Stiles and I alone with Allison's grandfather, who was currently eyeing each of us up like steaks in a butcher's window, trying to decide who he'd enjoy devouring first. Stiles and Scott both simultaneously stepped forward, taking a place on either side of me.

Gerard tilted his head a fraction to the side and nodded to himself, evidently confirming his decision. "Now, boys, I know that we have something of an appointment, but given the circumstances I hope you don't mind if I have a quick word with Miss Bennet first. I'm sure we won't be long. Sadie, do you mind?"

I could practically sense Stiles about to step forward and object, so I quickly cut him off. "Of course, sir."

He chuckled slightly and swept an arm out to the side, ushering me into the office. I chose to ignore the feelings of worry and panic that were rolling of Scott and Stiles in waves. I just walked forward, chin held high and my right hand held carefully at my side so that I wouldn't jostle my still throbbing fingers.

Gerard strode through the door behind me, grinning at the secretary and gesturing towards his office door. "Sadie, why don't you go ahead and sit down. I'll just grab your file and be in in a moment."

I nodded silently, trudging into the principal's office. It wasn't the first time I'd been there. My mother and I had briefly visited to sign some papers before the school year had started up, but this was my first official visit as a student. The walls were the same gross pea green, with ugly, uneven tiling underneath it. They'd understandably tried to cover the walls as much as they could, hanging up plaques and awards and installing tall bookshelves that I couldn't imagine getting much use. The actual desk hadn't seemed to have changed too much, except that the previous owner's name plaque had suddenly disappeared.

I perched myself on the edge of one of the two arm chairs in front of the desk, gently massaging the hand that had collided with Jackson's face. It'd been wrong to let him get me worked up like that. I knew that, on some level, me snapping had been a victory for him. But getting to see that shocked, hurt look on his face for even a fraction of a second made the loss seem worth it. It was probably stupid and immature, but at the moment I didn't care.

"So, Miss Bennet, let's take a look," Gerard said, closing the door to his office before settling down behind his desk. "I notice that this is only your first year attending Beacon Hills High School. Is that right?"

It didn't go unnoticed that he'd said all this before even setting the closed file down on the desk. I knew that he'd already spoke to Kate about me, though I wasn't sure just how much he might have known. But it occurred to me suddenly that there was a very good chance he'd already thoroughly inspected my file, every inch of it, simply because I was friends with Allison.

"Yes," I replied. I leaned back in the chair in an attempt to make myself look comfortable. I had no intentions of proving to Gerard that I found him intimidating. He probably already knew that. "After my father passed last spring, my mother and I decided we needed a change of scenery."

"Understandably so. The death of a loved one is a terrible thing. Father, sibling, child…"

"Is that why you came to Beacon Hills?" I asked, keeping my voice as innocent as possible.

Gerard smirked and squinted at me, but chose not to answer. Instead, he flipped my file open, leaning forward to take a look at the information I knew he must already have read. "Let's see here. You have near perfect grades, despite having to make such a large adjustment. But I see you're not taking part in any extra curricular activities?"

I shrugged, and endless amount of werewolf-filled nights flashing through my mind in an instant. "I keep busy."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," he dismissed, "but you never even attempted to sign up for one. I find that a little odd for a new girl looking for friends."

"I wanted to focus on my grades. Also, I moved during the summer, so I had plenty of friends by the time school started up. Besides, I met Allison within the first few minutes of my first day. Who else did I really need?"

"A good answer," Gerard laughed, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "And, completely off the record, a good right hook."

I pulled my lips in, pressing them together in an attempt to keep myself from grinning. He was dangerous, and my principal, and it probably wouldn't end well if I broadcasted just how pleased I was about punching Jackson in the face.

"Sadie, I honestly do not want to get you in trouble for this. I admire your evident passion, your skill. I'm sorry if this seems a little personal, but… You do remind me so much of Kate." I froze in my chair, jaw clenched tight, and though I was positive he noticed my reaction, Gerard kept talking. "She always had that same sort of fire in her. Getting her into trouble, fights with people who disagreed with her. Seeing you do the same… Well, it's a bit like having a piece of my daughter back."

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my emotions in check. They were warring in my head, each fighting for my body to betray me in a different way. Part of me wanted to start crying from actual sadness, talking about Kate. Part of me wanted to burst into tears just in fear, hearing from her own father that I was just like Kate. Part of me wanted my hands to ball up into fists, to jump from my chair and start screaming in anger instead of silently watching Gerard toy with me. And part of me was just trying to stop from shifting uncomfortably in the chair. It was unnerving, having an adult stare you down and shower you with compliments, comparisons to someone that they loved dearly. I wasn't sure if Gerard was being sincere in his assessment of me or if he just liked watching me squirm, but he was fairly convincing either way. I was certainly uncomfortable.

He smiled sadly, pretending to finally notice my discomfort. "I'm sorry, Sadie. You'll have to forgive my sentimentality. I'm an old man." I nodded my head slightly, not meeting his eye. "Now, I'm sure that your actions were completely justified. But, I do need to know what happened."

I pursed my lips, debating the situation. How much could I get away with not telling him? But it was still early in the game, and if Gerard had placed himself in a position of authority over me and my friends within a few days of his arrival, it was probably best to appeal to his good side as much as possible.

"It has to do with why Jackson was here in the first place," I admitted, fidgeting in the chair. "He… He knew something terrible was happening to one of my friends and decided not to tell anyone about it. He doesn't understand just how sick and wrong that is, so I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine."

Gerard's response was markedly different this time. He nodded thoughtfully, sharp eyes darting over every inch of the countertop as he processed my words. "This friend of yours, the hurt one—this is the boy that the police are considering a suspect? Mr. Lahey, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see…"

I watched curiously as his eyes slid around the room in thought, taking in the items on his desk, taking in the pictures on the walls, taking in me. Finally he heaved a great sigh, shaking his head slightly.

"Sadie, Sadie. Now, you know I wish I could let this pass without any sort of repercussions. But I'm told that Mr. Whittemore's parents are of somewhat high esteem in this community, and this being my first day on the job… Well, I hope you'll understand. How about we let this pass with an afternoon of detention and never discuss it again?"

I raised my eyebrows, not sure whether I should be surprised at the slight punishment or at the fact he'd given me anything at all after assuring me he didn't want me to get in trouble. But I nodded softly and glanced back towards the door. "Am I free to go?"

"Yes, yes, go ahead. And I'll even see what I can do about keeping this off your record." He lifted the file in the air with a smile, then used it to usher me out of the office.

Stiles and Scott ambushed me almost the second I stepped into the hall, springing up out of their chairs and dashing over to me.

"Hey! What happened? Are you okay? You're okay, right?"

I shot Stiles an unimpressed look, glancing behind me to make sure that Gerard was still out of earshot. "Please, like you two weren't listening in? I got detention. It's fine."

"How's your hand?" Scott asked, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "Do you want me to…?"

"No!" I gave him a pointed look and glanced behind me once more. "Not here."

"You should at least put some ice on it," he advised, sticking his hands back into his jeans.

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be fine. I just punched him."

Stiles face broke into a grin that threatened to split his face in half. "And it was awesome! Seriously, Sadie. Seriously, seriously awesome." He smiled at me, and I could feel my body threatening to freeze up again.

I quickly looked down at the ground, clearing my throat. "I'm uh… I'm going to go back to class. Now. I'll… I'll see you guys later."

Before either of them could argue, I brushed past them, speed walking down the hallway back towards the chemistry room. I was round the corner and out of sight before the new principal could even call them in.

Thankfully, I was able to escape talking to Stiles. Unfortunately, the trade off was that I had to go back to chemistry that much faster. The class stilled for a moment when I walked in, everyone pausing in their work to glance up and see who was at the door. I kept my chin up, walking to Mr. Harris's desk and returning the hall pass, then handing him the detention slip that the office secretary had written out for me.

His face morphed into a peculiar smile, some painful expression caught between annoyance and amusement. "An eventful trip to the bathroom, Miss Bennet?"

"You could say that."

He shook his head, placing the paper at the corner of his desk and silently gesturing for me to take my seat. I scurried back to my desk and took a seat next to Lydia once more. I glanced at her textbook to check the page she was working on, and quickly flipped to the same problem set.

"What happened to you?" she asked, eyeing me as I flipped open my notebook.

"Nothing," I replied, flexing my fingers before picking up my pen and beginning to jot down the polarity questions we were meant to be answering.

Lydia noticed the action immediately. She grabbed my wrist, forcing my hand to still so she could inspect it. Then she glanced over her shoulder and leaned closer. "You come back to class with bruised knuckles and detention right after Jackson walks in with a bloody nose and you expect me to believe nothing happened?"

I turned in my seat to follow her eyes. Jackson had apparently decided not to go to the nurse. That probably would have hurt his ego more than my fist had hurt his face. Still, he was sitting across from Danny holding a tissue to his nose. I rolled my eyes. He was being a complete drama queen. There was no way I'd hit him hard enough that his nose would still be bleeding.

"Well?"

"No," I said, turning back to my chem work, "but that's what I'm going to continue to say."

Lydia pursed her lips, but I could tell there was a slight smile hidden under all that annoyance. Of course, she didn't know anything about what had happened at the principal's office. As far as she was concerned, I was still just mad at Jackson for dumping her. And I was going to let her believe that. Part of me wanted to tell her the truth, show her just how much of a douchebag her ex-boyfriend really was, but I couldn't do it now. Telling her the real reason I'd punched Jackson would inevitably lead to her asking how I knew that Jackson had known about Isaac's abuse. That would entail telling her how I had heard what he said to Sheriff Stilinski, which would entail explaining Scott's super hearing and werewolves in general. I was going to tell Lydia eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later, but I wasn't going to drop a bomb like that on her during chemistry. I'd have to wait until after my detention, hopefully before the moon came up.

It was only a few minutes before the door to the classroom swung open once more. Scott and Stiles shuffled through, trying to cause as little of a disturbance as they could. Scott kept his head down, hurrying back to his desk to finish his work. Stiles, however, paused in front of Harris's desk. He made a big show of pulling his hand out of his pocket, then grandiosely presenting Harris with the detention slip he'd been given at the office.

My stomach immediately dropped. It hadn't occurred to me that the boys were also at the office to see the principal. They'd whacked our chemistry teacher with a paper ball, and then Stiles had proceeded to call him Satan. Of course he was going to get a detention. Of course Stiles was going to get detention on the same day I got detention. Of course I was going to have to sit through detention with Stiles. Of course this was going to happen when I could hardly stand to be in the same room with him without feeling so nervous I wanted to vomit. Lucky me.

Harris gave Stiles the same treatment he had given me, sending him back to his desk with a look of deathly exasperation. He turned about and headed for his desk, sending me a satisfied grin on his way. I tried to smile back, attempted to force my lips to curl upward at all, but I'm not sure I managed it. Instead, I ducked my head and let my hair fall over to hide my face. I stared down at my chemistry problems, and didn't look up for the rest of the period.

The fear of spending a whole hour after school in detention with Stiles only made my jitters even worse. I spent the whole day avoiding him, taking the long way to my classes, ducking behind other people in the hallway, ignoring any attempt that almost any of my friends made to speak to me. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid. It was ridiculously mental. But I just couldn't bring myself to talk to him, about anything. I knew there were bigger problems. Isaac's impending arrest nagged at my mind throughout all of my classes, but even that issue was banished to the back corner of my mind every time I caught sight of the bright red plaid shirt Stiles was wearing. I knew what I wanted to say to him, in theory. But I didn't know how to say it in actuality.

_"Hi, yes, I kissed you and I would like to do more of that, thank you." _

_"Yes I know that the activities we engage in day to day put our lives in danger continuously, but would you consider slipping in a few dinner-and-a-movie dates in between running from bloodthirsty werewolves?" _

_"Hello if you're not still in love with my best friend, you make me so nervous that I feel like my stomach is going to fly out of my face, so if you find that attractive you should definitely plan on taking me out sometime."_

Yeah. Real smooth.

So instead, I just avoided any contact with him at all. I hardly even made eye contact with him the whole day. I knew that I was probably only making matters worse for myself. I didn't want him to think I was avoiding him because I didn't like him. But at the same time, I was too nervous to reassure him that I was avoiding him because I liked him too much. It was a terrible, vicious cycle.

As soon as the last bell rang, I sprinted from the room to hide in the cover of the crowded hallway. Instead of going to my own locker though, I decided to ambush Lydia at hers. I barreled up to her as soon as I caught sight of her bright hair. I leaned on the wall of lockers next to her, bending my knees so my head couldn't be seen through the crowd.

"Hi!"

Lydia jumped and let out a small squeal of surprise. She smacked my shoulder when she saw it was me, then went back to pulling her binders out of her locker. "Jesus, Sadie…"

"Hey," I said, sitting up a little straighter and peering curiously into her face. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay," she snapped. "I'm absolutely fine."

I stood up to my full height, all nervous thoughts of Stiles gone as she tried to hide the fact that she was wiping her eyes. "Lydia, what happened?"

"Nothing! Nothing happened, Sadie. It's just… Ugh, just Jackson being stupid."

"Do I have to punch him again?" I asked, drawing a small chuckle out of her.

"No, no. He just… I went to thank him for saving me on the lacrosse field…"

"Lyd…"

"I know! I know you keep telling me to ignore him or whatever, but I can't okay? He… He helped save my life…" She took a deep breath and then shook her head, slamming her locker shut. "Anyway, he twisted the whole thing around as usual. Reminded me not to go getting attacked again and because I'm not his responsibility and we're not getting back together. And then he started spewing all this crap about the full moon and…"

"What?" I said quickly, eyes flying wide. "Crap about what?"

"I know, right?" She scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I honestly don't even know what's gotten into him. I mean, I know he can be an ass, but I'm supposed to be the crazy one." She seemed completely oblivious to my anxiousness as she sifted through her purse, finally snatching her car keys and dangling them in front of my face. "Whatever. I'll see you at home!"

"Wait!" I grabbed her arm as she went to turn around, all of my nerves springing back to the forefront of my mind. "Y-You're leaving?"

"Um yeah. You're the one who got detention, not me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just…I was hoping you would drive me home."

Lydia smirked, raising a solitary eyebrow. "I'm sorry, do you think I'm blind?"

"W-What?"

"I saw Stilinski get detention too. Get him to drive you home in that piece of junk he calls a car."

"No!" I quickly looked around, bending my knees and lowering my voice. "No. I just, uh… I wanted to spend some more time with you." Lydia snorted and rolled her eyes. She turned to walk out of the school again, but I quickly yanked her back. "Come on, Lyd! I'm serious. I—I'm not ready to talk to him yet."

"Well the rest of us are more than ready for you to talk to him, so you're just going to have to do it. Woman up." She snatched her arm back and turned on her heel, waving at me over her shoulder. "Have fun in detention!"

I groaned as I watched her strut down the hallway, effectively ruining my plan for my final escape of the day. I texted Allison in vain, but her lack of response was enough of an answer. She wasn't willing to bail me out of time with Stiles either. And Scott didn't have a car. Even if he did, he wouldn't have offered me a ride. My friends seemed to be conspiring against me, making sure that there was no way I could avoid Stiles any longer, whether I was ready to face him or not.

I walked towards the chemistry room like a criminal doomed to the gallows, head hung low and dragging my feet every step of the way. Harris seemed pleased to see me so properly miserable. He grinned as he confiscated my phone and ordered me to leave my bag at the front of the room. I would not be allowed to work on homework. I just had to sit in complete silence and boredom and "think about the delinquency I had committed to land myself in an afternoon of penance." I barely managed to hold back my biting comment about the probability that he was using a large vocabulary to compensate for various aspects of himself, and then collapsed into a chair on the far side of the room.

Stiles showed up only a few minutes later, the bounce and his step clearly showing that he wasn't even fractionally as bothered about the detention as I was. He smiled at me, immediately moving to take the seat beside me, until Mr. Harris called him back.

"Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Stilinski. This is detention, not match dot com, no matter how much you may need it in the future. Phone on my desk, bag in the front of the room. And then you can sit in that stool by the window."

Stiles turned back to the front of the room, his shoulders slumped as he threw his arms out to the side. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski, seriously. I am Satan, after all. Can't have you enjoying yourself in hell."

Stiles sighed and scuffed his heel against the floor. He attempted to shoot me an apologetic smile, but I immediately ducked my head, burying my face in my arms, which were folded on the table. I heard him walked towards the front of the room, the sound of his phone clattering onto the desk, his bag hitting the floor, his steps receding to the other side of the room to sit in his assigned seat.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I worked up the courage to peek over at him. He was dragging his fingers over the desk, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the tabletop. And then, as if he could sense me, his fingers paused and his eyes darted to mine. His lips pulled up into a small smile, and I could feel my cheeks immediately begin to heat up. I buried my face in my arms once more, glad that there weren't any werewolves around to tease me about my pounding heart.

Oh yeah. He was not going to make this easy. It was going to be a really, _really_ long hour.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Things are getting inteeeense! Also, I had to split up the next chapter because it was too long, but I think you guys are gonna like it. Like, really like it. ;)**

**Thank you for all of your amazing support. It really keeps me going and allows me to stay motivated when writing. Thank you for all of my wonderful reviews from emele807, SimplyKelly, Rain2012, Guest 1, a. Paper. heaRt, MeiMew, Bookiee, Hanna, Blazing-Melody, suttonsays, SophStratt, Guest 2, Simone140089, BTR14, tvdxobssessed, X23 Maximoff, XLostxinxWonderlandX314, Guest 3, Ellisbellisballs, Lojo2014o, enthusiastic-fan-and-reader, Britt, jadewyld, StayGold364, beenwithout, easythrowaway, TWsos12345, prettyargents, Janedoee7, blahicantthinkofaname, TameTheGhosts, Valkyrie101, A Crey, Guest 4, DarthVadress, aliciasellers75, Damia88, Lizzy, and thank you to MessintheMirror twice, since I didn't thank you for your review on the last chapter. ;) And honestly guys, I'm floored. Thank you so much for all of your love and support. You guys amaze me.**

**Also, thank you to everyone who decided to check out my Internship story. I'm really excited with the response and I have high hopes for where it's going.**

**In other news, if you are a fan of Isaac, I definitely recommend checking out "Silhouette" by c-bellz. It's an Isaac/OC story by my friend Briana. She's a first time publisher, but not a first time writer, which leaves you with an amazing story with not a lot of feedback. If you love Isaac, or know someone else that does, please consider checking it out. I'm super proud of her for beginning to publish and she could really use the encouragement.**

**In other other news. As I'm sure you're all aware, Teen Wolf starts up again on Monday! So, if you would like to get a look at my face and laugh at me as I cry over the show myself, feel free to check out my youtube channel (of the same username) and watch my fangirl reaction videos. If you're interested.**

**Besides that, things are starting to pick up, so I'm excited to see what you guys have to say! Can't wait to hear from you!**

**Happy New Year, and try not to die watching Teen Wolf when it starts up!**

**-Brittney**


	7. Chapter 7

It's odd how the way time passes can be so conflicting. People always say that it flies by when you're having fun, or when you're dreading something, and when you're waiting, it takes forever. I'm not quite sure what time thought it was supposed to be doing while I was in detention. On the one hand, it was dragging along. I practically fell asleep in my stool and looked up to find it'd only been a few seconds. I wanted to sprint out of the room, be free of Stiles for a few minutes so I could sort out what it was I wanted to do, what I want to say. But at the same time, sometimes time would pass in rapid spurts. I'd blink and five minutes had gone by, and then my stomach would lurch. When it was time for me to finally leave the room, I was going to have to get past Stiles. He was my only ride home, which meant that I was going to have to talk to him, and then sit in the car with him. At least sitting in detention the most he could do was looking at me.

But the more time passed, the more I decided that I didn't really want it to. Which of course meant that the clock handles started flying around the clock. Even Harris seemed to be able to read my mind to see how nervous I was. Thankfully, his willingness to watch me suffer was not as strong as his desire to torture Stiles. He did keep us later than I'm pretty sure he was allowed to, until Stiles was repeatedly hitting his head against the table. I just kept my head tucked in my arms and let my mind wander, trying in vain to keep it away from anything that would stress me out even further—namely Stiles, Kate, and the fact that Isaac was a werewolf who was in jail for killing his father.

The sky was already dark outside by the time Harris decided it was time to let us go. He held up our phones, using them to point to our bags in the front of the room as he spoke. "Alright, both of you out of here. I've seen enough of your faces today and I have better things to do than sit in this classroom and grade papers."

"Good to know," Stiles huffed, practically flying out of his seat.

But Harris jerked his arm up as he approached, pulling his phone out of his reach as he glared. "Careful, Mr. Stilinski, or you'll end up in the same place tomorrow. And I'm sure that neither of us wants that."

I could practically hear Stiles's teeth grinding together as I slowly got out of my chair and walked to the front of the room, keeping my head hanging low.

"Yes, sir."

"Very good." Harris handed both of our phones back and watched smugly as we collected our bags.

Stiles was quick about it, slinging his backpack up onto his shoulder and blowing out the door. I just shuffled along, slowly picking up the bag, slowly straightening my skirt, slowly fixing my hair around the strap of the book bag. But when I glanced up, it was to see that Stiles was still waiting for me in the hallway. He tapped his foot impatiently, eyes continuously flitting back to our chemistry teacher in annoyance. But he wouldn't leave without me.

I sighed. I was just going to have to suck it up. He was my only ride home, after all. So I shot a half smile at Mr. Harris and walked out into the hall, falling into step beside Stiles as we made for the parking lot.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, waiting until we were finally out of earshot before he groaned and rolled his eyes. "God, what a dick!" I snickered, letting my hair fall into my face but not replying. Stiles glanced over at me, his hands tugging on his backpack straps. "So, um… What's up? How's your hand?"

I shrugged, holding my hand out in front of me and flexing the fingers. "Fine. I can barely feel it anymore."

Stiles beamed, punching the air in front of him and jumping slightly. "God, that was awesome! You just—just wailed him right in the face! Oh man. And that look when he realized his nose was bleeding! Ha! I mean, I resent you hitting me, but it was so, so totally worth it."

My hands immediately shot up to clamp over my mouth as my eyes flew wide. I had completely forgotten that had happened. Stiles had been holding me back when Jackson lunged for me, and I'd elbowed Stiles in the stomach to break free so I could hit him. Real smart, Sadie.

"Oh my God! I am—I am so sorry! I didn't even think—I mean…!"

"Hey, hey, it's fine," he dismissed with a grin. "Like I said—worth it."

I bit my lip, easing my fingers apart but leaving my hands up to cover my face. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" He scoffed, carelessly flicking the edges of his button down. "Psh! I'm fine. Might take me a few days to get rid of the bruise on my stomach, but I'll heal."

"Oh my God!" I gasped and clenched my hand over my mouth again. "I'm so sorry! I just…!"

"Kidding!" he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Just kidding. Geez, it's so easy to wind you up."

I glared at him and tried to hide my smirk by pouting. I used my good hand to punch him in the shoulder, gratified to see that it made his grin slip slightly as he winced.

"Ow! Okay that—that is gonna take some time to heal. Ouch."

I rolled my eyes, digging my teeth into my bottom lip again to hide my smile. But I ducked my head as Stiles looked over at me again. Suddenly I was very interested in the way my boots contrasted with the floor, and it seemed very important to concentrate on making my feet fall only once on every tile.

Stiles cleared his throat. "So is Lydia still here, or can I take you—? I mean uh, do—do you need a—a lift?"

"Um…yeah," I managed, peeking up at him while trying to keep my head low. "I mean if you don't…"

"Mind? No, no. Nope. That's fine. Great. Good."

"Cause, uh…it'd be nice to get home before dinner so…"

"Yeah! Yes! I mean, how late did he even keep us? What time is it?"

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Um, it is…" But I trailed off as the screen on my phone lit up, revealing something far more pressing than the hour. I had about ten missed calls, and enough text messages to fill up the phone screen and more. My eyebrows knitted together as my eyes slid over the screen, catching snippets of messages sent to me by Allison and Scott.

_"They took Isaac. I just saw them wa…"_

_"Isaac left in a cruiser. Derek's he…"_

_"We're going to Isaac's house. He sa…"_

_"Why aren't you guys answering your …"_

_"Not sure what's wrong but if the po…"_

_"Sadie, are you guys out of detentio…"_

_"God why won't you answer your godda…"_

_"Listen Gerard just got back from sc…"_

_"I can hear them talking about Isaac…"_

_"This is really important please ans…"_

_"My dad caught me trying to listen i…"_

_"Sadie they were asking me about Lyd…"_

_"Please, please call me what you get…"_

_"Sadie seriously! What the hell is g…"_

"What is it?" Stiles asked, eyeing me cautiously as I stared down at my phone. "What's wrong?"

I kept my eyes fixed on the screen but raised a hand to wave him. "Check your phone."

"Wha…? O-Okay, uh…" He tugged his phone from his pants, fingers practically twitching in anticipation as the screen came to life. "Oh, wow. I see."

"Scott and Allison?"

"Yeah. Guess something went wrong. As usual."

"Yeah. Come on." I hiked my bag up higher on my shoulder, plugging in Allison's number as we doubled our speed. "Come on, come on, come on…"

We burst out of the double doors to the parking lot, and were already halfway to the Jeep before Allison picked up her phone.

_"Sadie! Finally! Oh my God!"_

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Stiles and I were in detention."

_"Yeah, hours ago!"_

"Harris just let us out," I said, shaking my head as we jogged the last few feet to the car.

"Yeah! Literally!" Stiles called to the receiver, angrily fumbling to maneuver his phone and his keys at the same time.

"And he kept our phones the whole time," I added. "Hence our lack of response."

_"Well we need to do something right now."_

"What happened? You said something about your dad and Gerard?"

_"Yeah. They were asking me all of these questions about Lydia and how she was bitten by Peter…"_

"But not me?" I asked, drawing Stiles attention. "W-Well that's good, right? I mean, kind of good. Am I in the clear?"

_"I'm not sure. I mean, Dad hasn't really asked about you since the funeral."_

"Wait, what?" Stiles asked, leaning back out of the car as he threw his bag in the back seat. "Do the Argents still think you're turning?"

"Not for now," I answered, pulling the phone away for a moment. He grinned, sending me a thumbs-up before ducking back into the Jeep.

_"You should still be careful,"_ Allison warned from the other end of the line. _"It might be that you're just not their primary target for now. They sent this guy out…"_

"Wait, what guy?" I asked frantically. "Out for Lydia?"

_"I don't know. He was dressed as a sheriff's deputy."_

"Shit."

"Shit? Shit what? What the hell is going on?" Stiles asked, jumping into the Jeep. "Can you…? Really, can you just get in the car and put the damn thing on speaker? Thank you!"

I rolled my eyes but obliged, running around the Jeep to hop into the passenger seat. I tapped on the speaker and handed it to Stiles while I tried to put my things in the back. "Okay, Allison, say that again."

_"What? Oh! Um, my dad and Gerard sent out some guy dressed up as a sheriff's deputy."_

"Ah, I see," Stiles said with a nod. "Shit."

"Exactly."

_"What? What does that mean?"_

"They're sending him to the station for Isaac," Stiles explained, wringing his hands on the steering wheel.

_"Okay. Shit. Um… He was also carrying this box with something on it, like um…like a carving or something."_

"What was it?" Stiles asked, his face deadly serious.

_"Hold on. Hold on. It's in one of these books."_ There was the faint sound of the rustling of pages as Allison frantically searched for her image.

I raised an eyebrow at Stiles's anxious expression. "What? You think you know what it is?"

"Maybe," he replied, shaking his head slightly. "Scott found something like that a while ago. Night would be a hell of a lot easier if that's not what I think it is."

_"I'm taking a picture,"_ Allison called.

There was a faint click, followed a few seconds later by the ding of my text alert. Stiles handed the phone back to me so I could navigate to the message, pulling up the photo that Allison sent. I hadn't been sure what Stiles had been expecting that was so bad, but the moment the file opened, my heart dropped into my stomach.

_"Did you get it?"_

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There on my phone was a sketched out picture of a sprig of wolfsbane. Large purple petals in full bloom, poking out in different directions just as they did in the paintings on my wall. I shared an uneasy look with Stiles as the true reality of the situation sunk in.

_"Guys? What is it?"_

"It's wolfsbane," I informed her, letting my eyes flutter shut for a moment.

_"What does that mean?"_

Stiles wiped his hands down his face, and his knee began to bounce up and down nervously. "It means they're gonna kill him."

_"What?! What do you mean they're gonna kill him?!"_

"Wolfsbane. It's poisonous to werewolves," I explained. "Well, to anyone really, depending on dosage. It's like the real world equivalent of the silver bullet."

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

Stiles and I paused to share an exasperated look.

"God, you and Scott are really perfect for each other, you know that?"

"She's used to a bow and arrow, dumbass," I scolded, slapping Stiles on the arm before turning back to the phone. "Silver bullets are the most commonly used werewolf killers in pop culture. Completely inaccurate, but common. Apparently real hunters are pretty fond of wolfsbane bullets."

"So if your dad's outfitting hunters with excessive amounts of wolfsbane…"

_"Then it means they know Isaac's a werewolf and are gonna try and eliminate him. Got it,"_ Allison agreed.

"Oh my God," I breathed as another thought hit me. "That's why he gave me detention."

_"What?"_

"Um, no," Stiles corrected with a wary look. "You got detention because you decided to go all badass and punch Jackson in the face."

"Yeah, and Gerard seemed totally fine with that," I said, turning in my seat to face him. "Right up until I explained that I'd punched him because I was defending Isaac. He must have wanted me out of the way in case we tried to interfere."

_"But Gerard doesn't know that you know,"_ Allison pointed out, sounding supremely worried. _"I mean, why would you try to interfere if you didn't know that Isaac was a werewolf? If that was his reason for giving you detention, he'd have to think you were already involved, right?"_

There were a few seconds of silence as the reality of that sentence settled in. She was right. If Gerard was trying to keep me out of the way, he'd have to suspect I had some motive to get involved, that I had some motive to suspect that everything that was happening with Isaac wasn't quite right. And of course, if Gerard suspected that I already knew about the werewolves in Beacon Hills, it wouldn't bode well for anyone. I could be considered a threat. Why would I know? Who could I have told? We'd all be watched like hawks, which could inevitably lead to Scott's discovery. Then it wouldn't just be the Argents and I in trouble. It'd be everyone.

But with this new explanation in mind, no other reason seemed to fit Gerard's motives. He'd been completely willing to let me go until he found out I was friends with Isaac, and even then the punishment had been pretty mild. But if he suspected that I already knew about all of the supernatural things in Beacon Hills, that I was lying to him, why wouldn't he call me out on it?

I had an idea, but it certainly wasn't one I was going to voice. Because admitting it wasn't even something I liked to do to myself. Gerard had talked about how watching me was like having Kate back. Kate who fought. Kate who challenged him. Kate who used to believe in werewolves just like I did. He seemed to think I was smart enough to figure out what was going on around me, and if he was anything like his daughter, he was revving to toy with that. Gerard wanted to see how long we could keep the game up before one of us slipped. If he did know we were involved—and it certainly looked like he was at least beginning to suspect it—then he was letting us think he was ignorant for one reason and one reason only. It was fun.

"Okay, okay, I'm just as thoroughly creeped out by this as you guys, but can we possibly worry about this later?" Stiles asked. "The moon's up and Isaac's probably already starting to freak the hell out. I'm not sure how long the holding cell can hold him, and we don't know where this werewolf assassin is either."

_"He just left a few minutes ago,"_ Allison said. _"Can't have gotten too far."_

"Okay, well, can you do something?" Stiles asked. "Anything that could hold him up?"

_"I can try."_

"Great! Good. Do that, and we'll call you in a bit."

_"What are you two gonna do?"_

"Call Scott, for one," I said. "He and Derek need to know. And then we'll try and cut off the hunting party at the station."

Stiles drummed his hands on the steering wheel. "A plan! Good! A plan is good! I like it."

"We'll talk to you later," I directed to Allison, swatting a hand at Stiles until he threw the Jeep into reverse.

_"Yeah. See ya."_

I disconnected the call as Stiles backed out of the parking spot, and was already listening to Scott's phone ring by the time we pulled onto the main road.

_"There you are! What's going on?"_

"Yeah, I get it. We were in detention Harris had our phones. Where are you?"

_"I'm still at Isaac's house with Derek."_

"Dude, seriously?" Stiles asked. His face scrunched up in distaste, just as it always did whenever anyone mentioned Derek.

_"Yes, seriously,"_ Scott said. _"And he can seriously still hear you."_

Stiles coughed, reaching one hand back to scratch at his neck. "Aha…right…"

"Whatever," I interrupted, waving my hand slightly. "What are you two doing there?"

_"We needed to get here before the cops. I mean, Jackson's word was enough to take Isaac in for questioning, but once they see his house… They're gonna think it was him for sure."_

"What? Why?" Stiles asked. "What's in the house?"

There was complete silence over the line, and I actually checked my phone screen to ensure that the call was still going.

"Scott, what's in Isaac's house?" I demanded.

There was a slight scuffle on the other end. I could hear Scott and Derek talking in low voices, but it was nowhere near loud enough for me to make out. I bit the inside of my cheeks with a huff, and Stiles looked over at me with worry.

"Scott!"

_"You really don't want to know, Sadie."_

"Yes, I really do! Isaac is my friend, so you're gonna tell me what his father was doing to him right now!"

We lapsed into silence again. I was just about to start yelling when Scott's resolve finally broke.

_"Look, I…I wouldn't be surprised if Isaac was claustrophobic."_

"What do you…?"

But I trailed off as everything sank in. What Scott meant. Why Derek was presumably stopping him from telling me. Why Isaac would have said yes to the bite. What Isaac's father could have been doing to him behind closed doors.

My free hand travelled back up to my mouth, suddenly hanging open as I stared down at my phone in horror. "Oh my God…"

_"Yeah,"_ Scott agreed solemnly. _"It's…It's pretty bad…"_

No one said anything for a while. It was like everything about me was suddenly stuck. It was all I could do to stop myself from trying to picture it. Isaac's lanky figure crammed into some dark closet or chest, unable to bite his bleeding lip to keep himself from crying, holding a hand over his swollen, bruising eye. That's what had been happening. All those times I never asked, and that's what he was going through. It made me sick.

I looked up when Stiles rested a hand on my shoulder. His thumb rubbed soothingly over the fabric of my shirt, and his head turned back and forth frantically as he tried to console me and keep his eyes on the road. I raised my hand from my mouth, wiping the moisture from my eyes before it could form tears. I had to stay focused. I could worry about the guilt later, after Isaac was completely safe from harm.

There was another commotion on the other end of the phone, and a few seconds later it was Derek who was speaking instead of Scott.

_"Whatever his father did to him doesn't matter now. We have to get him out of his holding cell before he transforms. That's our priority right now."_

"Yeah, how about keeping Isaac alive?" I suggested, running my fingers through my hair.

_"What? What does that mean?"_ Derek barked.

"Called Allison. The Argents just sent out a guy dressed as a sheriff's deputy, equipped with wolfsbane."

There was a beat of silence before there was a giant bang on the other end of the line. _"Damnit!"_

_"Derek, stop!"_

_"How did they find out?"_

"The Argents have spies everywhere," Stiles said with a slight shake of his head. "They knew about Lydia, they knew about the grave robbery. Oh, and in case no one's told you, Gerard's now the friggen principal at the high school!"

"Okay, focus," I cut him off. "Allison said she'd try to hold the guy off, but we don't know how much time that's gonna buy us."

_"I'm going to the station,"_ Derek said immediately.

"Derek, you can't just barge in there," I argued. "Your name might be cleared officially, but the Argents still blame you for Kate's death. There's not a hunter in town that doesn't know your car, and we don't need them hunting Isaac _and_ you."

_"Then what do you want me to do, Sadie? Huh? Leave it up to you and Stilinski?"_

"Uh hey, excuse me? I'm not really loving that tone of voice."

_"Shut up!"_

"Shutting up."

"No, we're not gonna be able to do enough," I conceded. "Just don't go straight to the station. Park a few streets away or something. Stiles and I will pick you up in the Jeep."

"No!"

_"No."_

I rolled my eyes at the unified answer, punching Stiles in the arm. "Oh, will the two of you grow up? That's what we're doing. No arguing." Both Stiles and Derek began to speak again until I threw up my hand. "Ah! Stop!" They fell into silence again, Stiles pouting as he turned his eyes back to the road. "Good. Now, Scott, what are you gonna do?"

_"He's staying here,"_ Derek answered.

_"What? No!"_

_"You still can't control yourself on the full moon. We don't need to deal with you on top of Isaac. You're staying here and trying not to hurt anyone."_

There were another few seconds of silence as Derek and Scott presumably had a staring contest to see whose will would break first. But finally, Scott sighed. _"Guess I'm staying here."_

"Okay. Derek, see you at the station. And Scott?"

_"Yeah?"_

"Good luck."

_"Thanks. You too."_

I bit my lip and hung up the phone, turning to look out the window. I glanced up at the sky, making a snap decision and dialing another number.

Stiles glanced over with raised eyebrows. "What? Who are you calling now?"

"Sh!" I kept the phone up to my ear this time, waiting for the call to go through. I held my breath, getting more and more anxious with each ring until finally, a voice picked up.

_"Hello?"_

"Lyd! Hey, it's me."

_"I'm sorry. I don't know anyone by the name of 'me.' You'll have to be more specific."_

"Cute, Lydia. It's Sadie."

_"Yes, I got that. What's up?"_

"Um, uh nothing," I said, glancing around as the scenery whizzed passed us. "Just checking in."

I heard Lydia sigh, no doubt accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll. _"Seriously, Sadie, the next time you try and check in on me, I will personally take the disgusting laces of those beat up canvas sacks you call shoes and I will use them to strangle you."_

"Hey, they are Converse, and they are not disgusting," I defended, ignoring the way Stiles lifted a fist into the air in agreement. "But you…you are feeling alright, yeah?"

_"Yes, Sadie! I am totally and perfectly fine! In fact, I am totally and perfectly perfect!"_

"So, uh…no headaches or dizziness…pain…odd emotions…"

_"Would you consider the desire to smack you an odd emotion?"_

I chuckled in slight relief, running my fingers through my hair. The full moon was already rising, and Lydia seemed to be perfectly fine. There was no way to tell for sure, of course, but it didn't seem to be having any effect on her so far. That was good news.

"For you? No, that's not an odd emotion."

_"Good. And seriously, where the hell are you? It's already dark out."_

"Well, I just got out of detention."

_"And where are you now?"_

"Now?" I repeated nervously, stealing a look at Stiles. "Um…well, right now I'm with Stiles and…"

Before I could think of anything else to say, the line went dead. I raised my eyebrows, pulling the phone away to see the screen flashing my ended call time. I gaped down at it in outrage.

"What?" Stiles asked, glancing over at me. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said. "I just, uh…lost the call…" I punched in Lydia's number again, narrowing my eyes as I lifted the phone to my ear. But this time, she didn't even give me a chance to speak.

_"Talk to him!"_ she screeched, and then hung up on me again.

I bit back a groan, wiping a hand down my face as I dropped the phone into my lap.

"Um… Is everything okay?" Stiles asked.

"Fine," I said shortly, resting my chin in my hand and turning to look out the window instead.

I flipped the cell back and forth in my hands, anxiously tossing it back and forth and front to back for a few minutes. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, to keep mind off anything and everything that had happened while also trying to stay focused. Unfortunately, it wasn't really working all that well.

"He's gonna be okay."

I glanced over at Stiles. His eyes were still fixed on the road, but he'd obviously been able to sense my nerves. But, given everything that had happened so far, that wasn't exactly surprising.

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do."

"Stiles…"

"No, I'm serious. I know that cause…because I know you. And I know that you're not gonna let anything happen to him."

I pulled my lower lip back between my teeth, glancing out the window as my face heated up. I shook my head. Focus. I needed to focus. First it was Lydia. Now it was Isaac. We had bigger things on our hands than blushing about some comment Stiles made.

"Well, I haven't been doing such a good job at protecting people lately…"

"Bullshit."

My head snapped to the side, eyes widening slightly. "W-What?"

"Bullshit," he repeated. "You do everything that you can do for like everyone that you meet. You found Lydia…"

"Lydia found us."

"And you could barely sleep until she did. You didn't leave her once in the hospital…"

"Except that time she ran away."

"Which you didn't know was gonna happen! Sadie, you can't hold yourself responsible for everything that happens to anyone. You're only human, and considering that, I'd say you're pretty freaking amazing."

I looked over at him again, my mouth falling slightly open. He was clearly frustrated, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed together. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, but kept his eyes straight ahead as the heat began creeping up my neck again. I wet my lips and diverted my eyes down to my lap, trying to stop the words from repeating in my head.

_Pretty freaking amazing. You're amazing._

Stiles glanced over at me and cleared his throat. "Um, you know I—I mean—Just that you're uh…you're doing the best you can and, uh…I…I—I think that you're…" His sentence was cut off by my phone ringing in my hands, making us both jump slightly. He threw his head back, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. "Ah, great. That's perfect. Good."

I shot him a skittish, apologetic smile as I fumbled with my phone, silently thanking whatever higher powers existed for diverting the conversation. "Uh h-hello?"

_"Um…Is everything okay?"_ Allison's voice asked.

I shot Stiles a side glance but he seemed be focusing all of his attention on the road, lips moving slightly as he mumbled to himself.

"Uh yeah, yeah. We're good."

_"Okay? Are you sure?"_

I didn't miss the tone of amusement in her voice, and I narrowed my eyes at the dashboard. "Listen, did you slow the guy down or not?"

_"You could say that."_

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_"It means that it will definitely take him a little longer to get to the station."_

"Okay, you know what? I don't want to know," I sighed, shaking my head. "Stiles and I are heading to the station right now."

_"Where's Scott?"_

"He's still at Isaac's. Staying there because of the moon."

_"And he has a plan?"_

"Uh, you could say that," I echoed.

I heard her chuckle on the other end of the line. _"Okay. I'm gonna head over there."_

"Okay. Call him first, though. And be careful."

_"Always am. You too."_

I disconnected the call and flipped the phone in my hand, tapping the edge against my leg. "So, uh, how much longer do you think we'll be?"

Stiles head snapped in my direction. "W-What?"

"To the station," I explained quickly. "Um, until we get to the police station."

"Oh, uh…just a couple minutes. I guess you better give _Derek_ a head's up."

I nodded and ducked to my phone once more, texting Derek to ask where he'd decided to park. The rest of the ride was silent, thankfully. Any thought Stiles had about discussing…something besides Isaac and hunters and the full moon, seemed to have been eradicated for the moment. Neither of us said a word until I had to direct him to the side road where Derek was hiding.

Stiles pulled the Jeep over to the side of the road right behind the familiar black Camaro. Derek stood from where he'd been leaning on the trunk and walked towards the car with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

I got up to jump into the backseat, but Stiles grabbed my arm. "No, it's fine. Derek's gonna sit in the back."

"No, he's not!" Derek called from outside.

Stiles winced and I smirked, prying his hand off my arm. "It's fine. Play nice."

He scoffed as I threw the passenger door open. Then I tossed my purse into the back and climbed over to vacate the front seat for Derek. I tumbled into the back, and had barely sat up when I heard Stiles squeal.

"Ow! What was that for?!" He was rubbing his arm and leaning as far away from Derek as he could get.

But Derek just glared at him, slamming the passenger door shut without looking. "Stop."

"Stop? Stop what? I don't know what you're talking about."

Derek glanced at me in the back seat and then gave Stiles a pointed look. I could see the flush forming on his cheeks as he looked back at me too. I bit my lip and averted my gaze down to the dashboard.

"Go."

"What?"

"Drive!"

"Yes! Yes, okay! I—I am driving."

The Jeep jerked into motion, narrowly missing the tail end of the Camaro as we hurtled down the street. We lapsed into silence once more, but this time it was infinitely tenser. Having Derek in the car was a reminder of our mission, of the danger we were walking into. And everything that was at stake.

My mind drifted back to Isaac, locked up in a holding cell. The space probably wasn't that big. He'd be going out of his mind even if he were human. But now he'd gotten the bite. It was a full moon, and Isaac would have been restless and dangerous even in the biggest room we could find. But now he was probably trying to control his powers and his panic attacks at the same time. He would be more than dangerous. He would be lethal, volatile. I didn't really want to think about what our chances would be with him once we opened the door to the cell.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

I glanced over at Derek with a bit of surprise. But judging by the calm look on his face, he was probably talking to me. It seemed like he always looked like he was physically restraining himself from extreme violence whenever he spoke to Stiles.

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I figured you'd have a few choice words about me turning Isaac. He's your friend, right?"

I pursed my lips, trying to stop my anxious foot tapping. "You already talk to Scott about it?" He nodded and I shrugged. "Then I don't have anything to say about it tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really, Derek. Right now I want to focus on getting my friend out of this night alive. And I'd preferably like to do it without him becoming a murderer. I can yell at you for being irresponsible about it some other time."

"Irresponsible?" he repeated incredulously, turning in his chair to glare at me. "I'm trying to…!"

"Yeah, Derek, I get it. And you're doing it irresponsibly. I don't know what you told him, and I don't care. I don't even know how long ago you bit him. But he's your responsibility. And you left him alone on his first full moon. If that's not irresponsible, I don't know what is." Derek opened his mouth to argue, but I threw up a hand, glaring at him with so much force that he actually shut his mouth. "No. We're not talking about this now. We're just gonna clean it up. We're saving Isaac."

I could see Derek grinding his teeth, maybe biting the inside of his cheeks. But eventually he gave me a short nod, and turned to look out the windshield again.

Stiles pulled into the station a couple minutes later, parking near the front and trying to peer through the windows. "Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected box in my father's office."

"And you just happen to have the password?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

Stiles winced. "I have…come across it by means that may or may not have been less than innocent." I rolled my eyes, making him glare at me. "Look, that's not an issue. The problem is getting past the front desk."

I glanced up to the station to see the officer who was presumably working the desk—a pretty woman with her dark hair pulled back, currently grabbing a cup of coffee. She might have been attractive, but she definitely gave off an air of strictness, someone who wouldn't let all three of us pass just because Stiles wanted to sit in his dad's office for a bit.

"I'll distract her," Derek said, going for the door handle.

Stiles grabbed him and jerked him back. "Woah, woah, woah, you? You're not going in there."

There was a beat of silence as Derek turned back to him, glancing between Stiles's face and the hand that he still had planted on his shoulder.

Stiles followed his gaze with wide eyes, and immediately released him. "I—I'm taking my hand off."

Derek glared at him for another second, rolling his shoulder as if he could shake off Stiles's essence. "I was exonerated."

"You're still a person of interest," Stiles argued.

"An innocent person."

"An…? You?! Yeah! Right!" Stiles laughed incredulously for a couple seconds, but Derek's face never changed. He eventually lapsed into silence, rolling his eyes. "Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

"To distract her," he replied slowly, raising his eyebrows high and giving Stiles a highly patronizing look.

I tried to choke back a giggle at the expression, but Stiles caught it anyway. He glared at me before turning back to Derek. "Uh huh, how? By punching her in the face?" Stiles bared his teeth and growled slightly, trying to seem menacing.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to hold in my laugh, but it wasn't as effective as I had hoped. Both of them turned to look at me with slightly annoyed expressions. I shook my head slightly and waved them off, trying to compose myself.

Derek rolled his eyes. "By talking to her."

My grin quickly morphed into a smirk, but Stiles just shook his head. "Okay. Alright, gimme a sample. What are you gonna open with?"

Derek sighed, glancing out the window for a moment before turning to stare Stiles down. I watched the altercation from the backseat with amusement, glancing back and forth and waiting for one of them to break. Unsurprisingly, it was Stiles who spoke first.

"Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

Derek seemed to consider it for a moment, cocking his head to the side. "Thinking about punching you in the face."

Stiles's eyebrows knitted together, affronted, and I decided to intervene. "Okay, boys, let's everyone calm down. Obviously Derek's not going to go in there and start talking about the weather or something. He's clearly got a few more years of experience under his belt than we do."

"Thank you," Derek replied curtly.

Stiles's mouth fell open. "You're siding with him? Come on! What is he gonna do? Go in there and start talking about his wolfy superpowers? Huh? Maybe show her his freaky wolf face and scare the hell out of her?"

"No. But he could very well go in there and show her his stunningly handsome human face and dazzle the hell out of her."

Both boys turned to glare at me, but I just sat there with a satisfied smirk on my face.

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked.

I shrugged. "What? Transforming isn't the only weapon he's got. Maybe it's escaped your attention, but he's kind of gorgeous."

"Please stop talking," Derek growled, but it just made my grin stretch wider.

"Oh, come on! I'm sure you've pulled the tall, dark and handsome card on dozens of unsuspecting women. They never stood a chance."

"Oh my God," Stiles groaned. "You're…! Just…! Stop, okay? Just stop. Let's get this over with."

I giggled, but nodded in agreement. I ended up struggling to extract myself from the Jeep, seeing as Stiles and Derek both seemed too annoyed with me to lend a hand. I muttered something about maturity, but dusted myself off and followed them into the building. We stood in the entryway for a minute, enjoying the last stress-free breaths we could get.

Stiles glanced over to Derek. "You ready?"

"Shut up."

"No, hold on," I said. I moved over to Derek, tugging his shirt slightly.

Stiles nearly choked behind me. "Wha—What?! What are you doing?!"

I hushed him, smoothing out Derek's leather jacket and narrowing my eyes at his hair. I reached up to tousle it a bit, then grabbed his jaw and turned his head back and forth, looking for anything else that might need to be fixed. But all I got was his dark eyebrows sinking dangerously low, and his eyes turning into slits as he glared down at me.

"Stop. Touching me."

I grinned, patting his cheek and stepping back. "Go get her, tiger."

Derek brandished a finger at me, but turned around. He rolled his shoulders a bit before walking through the open door. I went to peek around the corner, but Stiles grabbed my arm, holding me back until we heard the officer walk into the room.

"Good evening, how can I help…you…?"

Stiles and I peeked around the door to look towards the desk. There stood the female deputy, blank faced and dazzled just as planned. Across from her stood Derek. He looked probably the least like Derek I had ever seen, except maybe at Lydia's party the first night I'd ever met him. He leaned casually on the counter, a wide, flirtatious grin on his face as he let his eyes travel over her body.

"Hi."

"…Hi…"

I bit my lip to control the grin that was threatening to split my face in half, almost content to just sit there and watch the show. But Stiles leaned down and snatched my hand, yanking me to my feet as he rolled his eyes. He glanced around the corner once more before sneaking into the room, walking carefully and towing me behind him. I held my breath, but it was clear that Derek was holding the woman's complete and undivided attention.

"Uh, I had a question. Uh…sorry, I'm a little—little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone…"

"Like…me?"

"Well, I was gonna say so incredibly beautiful, but yeah. I guess that'd be the same thing."

My mouth fell open in a silent laugh as Stiles and I ducked safely into the hallway. I nearly doubled over from laughter, clutching my stomach and earning myself a scathing look from the boy next to me.

"Seriously? Pull yourself together. He's just flirting with her. And—and it's not even real."

"I know, I know," I agreed, standing up and following him as we started toward his father's office. "But he's smooth, you've gotta admit."

"That's not impressive," he grumbled. "I…I could be smooth…"

I smirked, trying to ignore the way my stomach tumbled and the heat began to seep back into my cheeks. "Yeah? I wouldn't mind seeing that."

Stiles shot me a nervous, wide-eyed look and cleared his throat. "Um… M-My dad's office is over here. Come on." He started down the hallway again, but somehow managed to snake his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together as he led the way to the sheriff's office. I smirked, but didn't comment on it. Smooth.

* * *

**A/N: I know and I'm so sorry I had to cut it! This part and the next part were supposed to be one chapter, but it got too long. I hope you guys aren't too upset with me.**

**Thank you so much for all your continued support. The favorites, the follows, the reviews are all really important to me. Thank you for the lovely reviews I received from emele807, Blazing-Melody, Daenerys86, a. Paper. heaRt, BTR14, DarthVadress, brokenasylumist, Valkyrie101, XLostxinxWonderlandX314, SarfatiArmy, Rain2012, TameTheGhosts, SimplyKelly, easythrowaway, KennyLuvs-1D-MBSV-BTR-TeenWolf, X23 Maximoff, and LionHeartMisfit. You guys are all too good to me. I love you!**

**In other news, my friend Briana and I just kicked off the new season of Teen Wolf by picking up our fan reaction video series on YouTube! If you're interested in that, I'd love if you could check it out. The account name is the same as it is here - BrittWitt16 - and we're dying to get on Wolf Watch sooo...yeah.**

**That's about it for today! Thank you so much and I can't wait to hear what you have to say!**

**-Brittney**


	8. Chapter 8

Any of the ease that was in the air vanished when we stepped into Sheriff Stilinski's dark office. Stiles let go of my hand and dashed over to the lockbox on the wall. I stood in the middle of the room, squinting around at the plaques and pictures that lined the walls. There was a slight smile on my face as I looked at one of Stiles and his father on the desk. But the smile vanished when Stiles opened his mouth.

"Oh no, no, no."

My head snapped up, placing the picture back on the desk. "What is it?"

He stepped aside, jerking his thumb towards the box on the wall. The cover had been removed, now showing that the inside was completely vacant. No keys.

My stomach dropped. "So what does that mean? Did the Argents beat us here?"

"I don't know," he replied, running for the door.

I went to run after him, but after a few steps, I froze. I turned back to the room, an idea forming in my mind. It was a police station after all, right?

I ran toward the wall, hands searching in the dark for what I was looking for. I searched along the walls, along the shelves, until I finally skimmed something promising. Hard, textured, black plastic. I gave a small knock to test the strength, but it was unyielding. Which was perfect.

I grabbed at the edges and tried to haul it off the shelf, just as Stiles poked his head back into the room. "Sadie, come on! We gotta go!"

"Help me with this," I ordered.

He only hesitated for a second. Then he groaned and rushed to my side, helping me lower the heavy case to the ground. "Geez, what the hell is it?"

"Open it."

Stiles looked over at me, his eyes wide in the dark. "Um, I can't? You see the front here? Two code locks. I don't know…"

"Yeah, and you 'didn't know' the code to the lockbox either," I countered. "Look, if there's anything you can think of that would fit. Please try."

He held my gaze for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay. Okay, uh…hold on…" He shifted the case toward him, plugging in a number and testing the lock. But it didn't budge. He tried again. No luck. He scrolled the wheels a few more times to try a few more codes, but nothing seemed to be working. He shook his head. "Sadie, it's not gonna…"

"Stiles. Please."

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. "Okay. Um…" He let out a slow stream of air, spinning through the numbers one more time. His thumbs moved to tug at the locks. And it clicked.

His eyes widened as the clasps flipped up, unlocking the case. "Holy shit. I… I got it…"

"You got it," I said with a grin, flipping the top up. I held my breath for a moment, hoping that I'd picked the right one, but I wasn't disappointed. I lifted the lid to find the patterned Styrofoam padding, revealing several handguns and magazines at the ready. I let my fingers drag over the surface, fishing out a gun and some ammo.

Stiles waved his hands in front of him, his jaw dropping. "Holy shit! I got it! That—That is so unsafe!"

I chuckled, loading the gun and standing up. I kept the barrel pointed at the ground as I walked to the door, checking down both ends of the hallway before glancing back at Stiles. "Come on, we should go."

Stiles stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans, jogging over to the door. I didn't miss the way his eyes scanned my form, jumped to the gun and then back to my face and down again.

I tucked my lips in, torn between embarrassment, exasperation and pride. "Focus, Stiles."

"W-W-What?" he stammered. "I'm focused. What are you talking about? You focus."

I shook my head slightly with a grin. "Stiles. Go."

He nodded slightly, checking to see that the coast was clear for himself before turning the corner. "We'll go to the cell," he whispered over his shoulder. "Isaac's probably about to rip the door off anyway, and we need to get to him before the… Oh."

I turned forward once more to see that Stiles had stopped short. He was face to face with one of the station deputies. He was glaring Stiles down, clearly not pleased at all.

My stomach dropped. It hadn't even occurred to me that more than one officer would be in the station. But there'd been a murder the night before, and they had someone in custody. Of course that would make sense. Or at least it did make sense, until I caught sight of his injury.

"Oh we were just, uh…"

"Stiles…"

He glanced back at me, then followed my eyes down to the man's leg. Suddenly, it was very clear that the man in front of us was not a deputy. And it was very apparent what Allison had meant by "slow him down." The hunter's pant leg was soaked in blood, a broken black arrow shaft protruding from his thigh. This time my stomach jumped up into my throat. We hadn't beaten the Argent's man to the station. We'd gone and run straight into him.

"Oh shit."

The next thing I knew, Stiles hand had connected to my shoulder, and I was hurled to the ground. I barely managed to keep my hand on the gun, and I let out a small huff of pain as my chest collided with the floor. But the moment I heard the muffled noise of protest behind me, even the mere thought of pain flew from my mind. I jumped to my feet, bringing the gun up to eye level and whirling around to face my target.

But it was already too late. The man had snatched Stiles and pulled him back. He had one hand clamped over his mouth, pinning him against his chest as he struggled. The other hand was holding large, lethal looking needle. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought to keep my hands steady. I opened my mouth to yell for Derek, but the hunter was a step ahead.

He jerked the needle closer to Stiles's neck and I choked back a gasp. "Scream and he dies."

I narrowed my eyes, firming my grip on the gun. "Move and I shoot."

"That's cute, kid, but you really don't know what you're up against."

My eyes glanced around the hall, flicking from Stiles's fear stricken and quickly reddening face to the man to his needle. I pursed my lips and took a deep breath. "Guess wolfsbane injection's a little more discreet than blowing a teenager's head off, huh?"

It'd been an educated guess, but I wasn't disappointed. The man froze for a moment, just enough time for Stiles to start kicking again. But unfortunately his grip wasn't loose enough for an escape.

"How do you think your boss is gonna feel about that when you waste all your precious ammo on a human kid?"

He jerked Stiles's head back, bearing his neck and making my heart stop for a moment. "You think I can't just tear his neck open with this thing?"

"I think you shouldn't underestimate my ability to take a headshot."

The man narrowed his eyes for a second. His hand edged away from Stiles's neck, and for a moment, I thought I'd won the foothold I was looking for. For a moment.

"You? I don't think so, sweetheart."

My heart pounded back into motion, loud enough to sound in my ears as the man's confidence seemed to seep back into his face.

_"Uh oh. Looks like somebody knows you're a coward!"_

I scrunched my eyes shut for a moment, trying to will the familiar, singsong voice out of my head.

_"I'm not."_

The man tightened his hold on Stiles, and cautiously began walking back, dragging him farther down the hallway.

My eyes widened and I gulped. "I said don't move! Drop him or I shoot."

The man smirked, picking up speed as he dragged Stiles away. "I think you're bluffing."

_"Ouch. That's rough. You are definitely bluffing, kiddo."_

_"Shut up, Kate."_

The man continued to yank Stiles down the hall. I rushed after them, trying to maintain a non-threatening distance while still looking threatening enough with the gun to make the man think twice about hurting Stiles. My eyes darted over him, looking for a target. But Stiles was still thrashing and the hunter was holding him high up against him, eliminating any possible shots.

_"Oh, please. You've got plenty of shots. Feet. Syringe arm. You could stop being such a baby and actually take the headshot."_

_"Stop it!"_

I blinked hard, narrowing my eyes at the man and trying to take a deep breath. But I could already see my hands starting to shake.

_"You know, I'd rather you were going to blow some holes in that uh, poor unfortunate soul you're pretending is your friend…"_

_"He has a name! It's Isaac."_

_"Yeah, cute kid with the kicked puppy dog eyes, whatever. But uh, if you're not gonna shoot him, then you can always start by killing this guy. He's actually a villain in your view, right? Might rip lover boy's jugular right open."_

_"Stop."_

_"Of course, that's far too bloody in my opinion. I'd probably go for a good ol' snap of the neck."_

_"Stop! Just stop it!"_

_"Mm, then make me, Sadie. Go be the knight in the short shorts. Shoot him."_

My fingers tightened on the trigger, moving the barrel in small increments as I looked for an opening. But Kate was right. There were plenty of openings, even non-lethal ones. The man was being sloppy, cocky because he thought I was just a little girl who wouldn't shoot.

_"Come on, babe. Just a couple muscles in the finger. Shoot him."_

No. He knew. He knew I was just a little girl who wouldn't shoot.

_"In the head. Right now."_

I tightened my hands on the handgun, targeting the hand that was holding the needle. It'd be non-lethal. He'd get out alive. Stiles would get out alive.

_"Oh my God, fine you wimp. Just pull the trigger."_

But I was beginning to hyperventilate. I couldn't do it.

_"Shoot! Him! Now!"_

I clicked the safety back on the gun, lowering it to my side and jumping for the wall. I yanked down the fire alarm, flooding the hallway with flashing red light and the sound of sirens.

I heard the man grunt as Stiles kicked him in the shin, struggling to get free as they crossed the threshold into the room with the holding cells. The hunter threw him to the ground at his feet, flipped the needle in his hand so he was wielding it like a knife, and stepped on Stiles's shoulder to pin him down. Then he glared up at me, baring his teeth in anger and pain.

"I told you not to make any noise."

"You told me not to scream."

I glared at him, hand tightening on my gun and ready to spring at him, but then something caught my eye. Just behind the hunter was a wall of holding cells. And all of them were completely empty. I eyed the room directly behind him, a small space with the door thrown open and the handle slightly askew. My breath caught in my throat. That wasn't good.

The hunter must have noticed the look on my face, because a moment later he lifted his foot off of Stiles so he could turn around. Stiles scrambled backward and I leapt for him, tugging him away just as all hell seemed to break loose.

The man let out a hoarse cry as his body went flying to the left. I barely had time to register the hulking figure that was pinning him to the desk before the two were flying in the opposite direction, slamming into the wall.

Stiles scrambled for the left wall, still on his hands and knees, and I gripped the gun in my hands until my knuckles turned white as I treaded farther into the room. I stood slightly to the side, flexing my fingers against the firearm and trying to convince myself that I would be ready to use it if necessary—whether that meant shooting the hunter or Isaac.

But the way things were turning out, the hunter wasn't going to be much of a problem. Isaac roared, clutching the man's forearm and squeezing until I could swear I heard bones breaking from across the room. He cried out in pain, dropping the wolfsbane-filled syringe to the ground.

Isaac hardly seemed to notice. He laid a large hand over the hunter's face, his sharp claws extended, and slammed his head back into the wall. The man let out a pitiful sigh before crumpling, falling into a pile at Isaac's feet, and the new werewolf let out a satisfied growl.

I jumped slightly at the sound of breaking glass, my head snapping to the right. Derek had finally decided to join us. He ground his heel into the ground, destroying the syringe before looking up to stare evenly at Isaac. He was safe. For now.

But Isaac didn't seem to have enough control to feel any sort of relief or gratitude. He was still suffering from the full moon, and that meant that he was still looking for a target.

His head snapped to the side, glowing yellow eyes locked on Stiles, who was currently cowering in the corner of the opposite wall. His eyes widened, and his legs struggled to push him farther away. But he was trapped.

The growl had barely left Isaac's throat before I sprung into action.

"No!"

I sprinted into the middle of the room, skidding to a halt in front of Stiles and standing directly in Isaac's way. But that didn't stop him.

I looked up into his morphed face, barely recognizable as the sweet, downtrodden boy I had driven home a few times. His forehead bulged with snarling muscles, his eyes glowed bright yellow, his ears were pointed and extended back, and his teeth were bared and ready to bite. The only thing that seemed to be left of Isaac was his hair, those dirty blonde curls that sometimes dipped down into his face. But a hairstyle was not going to be enough to stop him tearing me limb from limb.

Isaac sprung at me, his claws outstretched and his jaw snapping. I was too caught up to care. I just closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact. But the impact never came.

Another roar ripped through the air, this one actually shaking me to my core. I could've sworn I even heard the bars on the cells rattling. I ripped my eyes open to see that Derek had taken a few more steps forward. His teeth were bared and his irises were glowing bright red, his hands balled up at his sides.

The fearsome sound sent Isaac scurrying to the opposite wall, balled up on the ground with his arms over his head. I watched in fascination as the claws on his fingers retracted, the tips of his ears shrinking until they were smooth and rounded once more. When he finally peeked out from under his arm, it was to reveal the Isaac that I knew, his skin glistening with sweat and his blue eyes darting around nervously. His whole body shook like a leaf, and he ducked his head into his arms once more.

Stiles cleared his throat from the floor behind me, and I could hear his shaky breaths from a mile away. "How did you do that?"

Derek twisted around to look at us, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I'm the Alpha," he explained, then glanced over at me. "Are you okay?"

I narrowed my eyes at him for a few seconds, taking in his grin. No one should be grinning in anything but relief. But Derek didn't seem all that relieved. He seemed proud. He seemed almost smug, like he was enjoying the power he had over Isaac just a little too much. And the sight of that strange smile made my stomach twist into a knot.

I nodded. "Just get him out of here." My eyes flicked over to Isaac, who had lifted his arms again to peer up at us in fear.

"You. Get up," Derek ordered. But Isaac didn't move. Derek waited for about two seconds before marching over to him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and hauling him to his feet.

"Hey! Easy!" I barked, taking a step toward him.

Derek rolled his eyes, but marginally loosened his grip on Isaac's sweater. The boy looked up at him with wide, frighten eyes. He turned to me for a moment, but his eyes immediately dropped to my boots, unable to look me in the eye. "Sadie, I am… I am so, so, sorry. I didn't… I wouldn't…"

"Go with Derek, Isaac," I said gently, shaking my head. "Night's not over yet. Let's try and make sure you don't hurt anyone else."

He ducked his head, hiding his face behind the curls in a way that was so familiar, it was almost comforting. Derek clamped his hand down on his shoulder, and then steered him out into the hall and out of sight before I could think to ask anything else.

The room lapsed into silence, and it was only in that silence that the sirens and their volume truly seemed to sink in. I closed my eyes to escape the flashing red lights for a moment. The wailing alarm drilled at my ears, though, making it impossible to even imagine being anywhere else. I sighed, wiped a hand down my face and turned on the spot.

Stiles was still sitting on the ground behind me. His legs were bent a little awkwardly, still recovering from trying to push him through the wall. His head rested up against the plaster, skin shining slightly with sweat, lips fractionally parted as he took huge, panting breaths. His large maple eyes stared up at me, turning an almost bright orange every time the red alarm light decided to flash.

My stomach clenched. Right. Back to being alone with Stiles. Back to being alone with Stiles when the pressing matters had been dealt with. Back to being alone with Stiles when there wasn't really anything to do.

I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself, but it came out weak and shaky, which only made me more nervous. I took a couple steps forward, extending my hand out to him. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" His eyes had been on me the whole time, but they suddenly widened as if he'd only just noticed that I was in the room. "Oh, uh…yeah. Thanks." He slipped his hand into mine, grabbing my wrist so I could help him up. He threw himself to his feet, winding up only a few inches away from me.

I immediately dropped his hand and stepped back. I gulped, too nervous to continue looking into his face. Instead, I wound up staring at his knees. "So, um…what do we do now?"

"Not sure. But, uh, getting rid of the gun would probably be a good start."

My head snapped up and then down again, looking down at the firearm in surprise. The moment that Isaac lunged at Stiles…I'd just completely forgotten that I was holding it. "Right. Gun. Um…" I lifted it to my torso, trying as best I could to wipe away my fingerprints with the edge of my plaid shirt. I glanced around the room before running over to the unconscious hunter. I pressed the gun into his hands a few times, then placed it a few feet away and stood up. I clapped my hands together as if dusting them off and then rested them on my waist. "Okay. So some guy masquerading as a cop breaks into the station, steals a gun and then tries to let out a teenager in a holding cell. Maybe he was gonna shoot him, maybe he was gonna kidnap him. Maybe he was a friend of Mr. Lahey and he jumped to conclusions and wanted revenge. Isaac fights back in self-defense and flees for his life. That's plausible, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles agreed, pacing closer with his hands in his pockets. "Let's just hope the guy wakes up with amnesia. Don't need him telling the Argents that we know so much about what's going on."

I lifted a hand to my head, weaving my fingers through my hair and sighing in frustration. "Yeah. I… I don't know what I was thinking spewing all that shit about wolfsbane. I guess I just…panicked…"

"Yeah, yeah. I noticed." Stiles shrugged and walked a little closer. "You were, uh…a lot panicked. I mean, very panicked. Uncharacteristically panicked."

I raised my eyebrows. "Uncharacteristically panicked?"

"Yeah, well, you know. You're usually the one with the level head. But you uh…you just seemed… I don't know, you seemed worried is all."

"Stiles, of course I was worried," I said incredulously. "They wanted to kill Isaac, Isaac wanted to kill you…"

"So it was me," Stiles interjected quickly, turning his head slightly so he could look at me from the corner of his eye. "You were really nervous about my safety and my wellbeing and my life and you know, just really worried about me."

I pursed my lips, not loving where the conversation was going. "No, Stiles. You dying would just be a lot of paperwork, and frankly, I just don't have time for that." I brushed past him, not exactly sure where I was going but not at all ready to continue the conversation face to face.

Stiles laughed slightly, right behind me. "See, I—I'm not buying that. I mean you recklessly ran between me and a new, fully transformed werewolf."

"I wasn't being reckless."

"Eh, I don't know. It—It looked pretty reckless to me."

"I had a gun, Stiles. If he got too close, I was going to shoot him."

"Really? Because it didn't really look like you were going to shoot him."

"Don't remind me," I sighed, pushing down that tingling feeling in the back of my skull that was the thought of Kate.

"In fact," he continued, as if I hadn't even spoken, "it didn't even look like you remembered having a gun at all."

I whirled around, glaring at him where he stood only a foot or two away. "Okay, Stiles! What do you want me to say?!"

I could see him fighting a smile off his face, trying with all his might to remain serious as he pushed me and pushed me. "What? Sorry I just, you know, I'd just like it if you could admit that you were worried about me."

"Fine! Yes, Stiles! Yes! I was worried about you."

"Good!" he said, his grin now spreading over his face. "But that didn't really seem like a usual—you know, a normal amount of worry."

"Oh my God!" I groaned. I went to turn away, but Stiles grabbed my wrist, pulling me back to face him.

"It's just that like—like throwing yourself in front of a werewolf is like a level above taking a bullet for someone. And taking a bullet for someone, that—that shows a pretty high amount of worry. You know? And a uh, a certain level of worry and care and—and that's fine! You know, if it was a higher amount of worry than usual. I'd just like to hear a reason if—uh—if you have one. And—And—And you can tell me. You know, you don't have to feel like you have to bottle up that reason inside of you. You can tell me and I—I will listen and…"

"Just stop talking."

I knew what it was that he was trying to do. He was trying to manipulate me. He was just trying to push me over the edge. He wanted to show me enough proof that we weren't just friends anymore that I would say something first. He was literally trying to annoy it out of me. He was just waiting for me to snap. He was going to edge me closer and closer to the edge, get me totally worked up, and then just watch me explode and scream everything at him that I'd been holding in since the night of the formal. Maybe even since before that. I knew exactly what was happening.

And it still worked.

I grabbed Stiles by the edges of his plaid shirt and yanked him toward me, crashing his lips into mine. It took him a second to catch up. I hadn't given him the response he was initially looking for, but he didn't seem disappointed in the slightest. Stiles tilted his head to the side, quickly grabbing onto my waist and splaying his fingers over my shirt. He tried to tug me even closer than I already was, and I slid my hands up his chest to wrap around his neck as his lips began to move against mine.

If trying to protect Stiles had made me forget about the gun I was holding in my hand, it was amazing what kissing him could do. I felt almost hyper aware of everything—his lips on mine, the small puffs of air as he struggled to breathe through his nose, his fingers digging into my hips, the way his short hair bristled under my fingertips as I ran my hand over his head. And at the same time, I forgot everything. There were no sirens wailing. We hadn't just sprung a werewolf from jail. Werewolves didn't even exist. And I couldn't for the life of me remember why I had been avoiding Stiles. Why would I put this off? Why would anyone try and avoid something as…exhilarating as this?

Stiles slid one hand up my back, moving it past my neck so his fingers could travel into my hair. I pushed myself onto my tiptoes to gain some sort of height advantage. I could feel him smirking into the kiss, and I was about to too.

Until someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

Stiles and I shot apart like repelling magnets held too close together. I patted down my hair, blinked rapidly, licked my lips and then immediately stopped when I remembered that Stiles had just been kissing them. I cautiously glanced up toward the door and felt my stomach drop down to my feet.

Sheriff Stilinski was standing at the edge of the holding cell room, his hands on his hips, his mouth slightly agape, and his eyes squinting at the two of us in shock. His mouth moved feebly, but no words came out. He seemed completely and utterly speechless. His face remained fairly void of any emotion except surprise, but the two deputies behind him seemed to be sharing impressive amounts of annoyance and amusement.

I gulped as Stiles cleared his throat, looking around the room before raising a hand to point at the unconscious hunter in the corner. "Uh…he did it…"

I slowly turned my head to glared at him, and he shrugged. But as lame as the answer was, it seemed to be enough to snap the sheriff out of his daze.

He closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line. He raised his hand to point at each of us, then jerked his thumb towards the hall. "The two of you. My office. Now."

We both nodded frantically, then glanced over at each other. Stiles gestured ahead, mouthing, _"Ladies first."_

I glared at him, shooting a glance at the sheriff and jerking my head towards the door. _"He's your dad!"_

Stiles rolled his eyes, but went ahead of me, dragging his feet as he trudged passed his father and towards the office. I followed him with my head hung low, only barely aware of Sheriff Stilinski ordering the officers to canvas the area while he had a word with his son.

We walked into the office, this time turning the lights on instead of fumbling around in the dark. Stiles and I stopped just inside the door, staring down at the case of guns that we'd opened. I had no idea how I'd been lucky enough to find it, but suddenly hoped that they wouldn't be thoroughly investigating the break in. I might have wiped my prints off the gun, but Stiles had still been the one to open the case.

"What the hell…?" the sheriff asked, walking in behind us and immediately spotting the case of firearms on the floor.

"Awesome," Stiles chuckled, but he didn't even make it a step before his father grabbed the back of his shirt.

"I don't think so. Both of you, sit down."

I bit my lip as Stiles and I shuffled over to Mr. Stilinski's desk. I cautiously perched myself on the edge of my chair, while Stiles flopped down into his seat, completely at home.

The sheriff shut the door and then walked around to sit across from us, wiping his hands over his face. "Would one of you like to explain to me what the hell you two were doing in the holding cells?"

Stiles cleared his throat. "Well, Dad, I thought that was pretty obvious."

He yelped as I kicked him in the shin, and Mr. Stilinski glared at him. "Would either of you like to explain _why_ you were in the holding cells in the first place?"

There were a few seconds of silence. I could practically smell the smoke as the wheels in Stiles's head turned frantically trying to think of some excuse that would get us off the hook without getting in trouble. But as fast as they were turning, he couldn't seem to think of anything remotely plausible.

I took a shaky breath before lifting my head. "It was my fault."

"What?" Stiles and Mr. Stilinski asked in unison. They glanced at each other and Stiles quickly ducked his head.

"I, um… Isaac… Isaac is my friend," I started, playing with my fingers in my lap. "H-He doesn't really have a lot, and I guess I feel sort of responsible for him. I found out about…about what had been happening to him at home this afternoon and I—I kind of freaked out. I honestly don't think he killed his father, but Isaac was here and he was locked up and I know that he doesn't like small spaces and I just thought of how afraid he must be and I…"

"Decided to try and free him?" the sheriff asked. The touch of anger in his voice made me tremble with guilt, even knowing that everything I was saying was a lie.

"No, no. Of course not. I just…I wanted to talk to him. I thought he could use the company. And I know it was stupid, and Stiles was trying to talk me out of it, but when we got here he was already gone. Door open, some guy on the ground. And I…panicked…"

"Right!" Stiles jumped in. "Dad, I promise we didn't do anything. We were just gonna see him, and then he was gone and Sadie was panicking and I…I was comforting her!"

"Yeah, I got that part," the sheriff shot, making both Stiles and I slouch down in our chairs.

My face actually felt like it was on fire from all of the blood rushing to my cheeks. Way to go, Sadie. Point for you. You and your impeccable, impeccable timing.

"Sadie," Mr. Stilinski sighed, leaning forward on his desk. "I understand that you're worried about your friend. And while I understand your intentions, you can't just do things like this. Isaac was in custody for a reason, and that reason stands whether or not you think he'd innocent. You can't just sneak into the station to say hi. There are security measures for a reason. It's a dangerous place. I mean, just imagine if you'd shown up a couple minutes earlier. That man had a gun. If you tried to help Isaac, you could have been shot. Any of you could have been. You understand?"

I kept my eyes low, nodding into my lap rather than looking up at the sheriff. "Are…Are you gonna call my mom?"

He sighed again, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd sure as hell like to. But uh… I'm not sure if… Maybe some parts of the story it's better if she hears from you."

My blush seared my face once more. I could feel Stiles looking over at me, but I decided that the scuffed tips of my boots were far more important.

"For now, I'm just going to ban you both from the station and…"

"Dad, you can't—that's just not safe. I mean what if something happens or…?"

"Fine, okay. I don't want either of you coming here unless there is something seriously wrong that you need to report."

"Dad, I still have to bring you dinner…"

"Fine! Just—Just please don't do this again, okay? Either of you," he said, making Stiles and I nod in consent. "Good. Now, I'm going to have to stick around to figure out what the hell happened. Stiles, I want you to take Sadie home and then go straight back to the house. No…no…procrastinating…"

"Uh…yeah. Yes. You got it. Sure thing. I will. There—There will be no…"

"Stiles."

"Got it. I'm done."

"Good. Now, get out of here."

Stiles got to his feet, drumming his hands on his legs. "Okay, uh…see you at home."

"Bye, Mr. Stilinski," I said meekly, standing up as well. My fingers were still twisting and wringing each other in front of me, and I couldn't seem to make them stop. I walked to the door, Stiles barely a handful of steps behind me, but the sheriff called us back.

"And guys?" We paused, turning around to look at Stiles's dad once more. His face was screwed up as he stared at the edge of his desk. Even his face seemed to be pink from second-hand embarrassment. But finally he looked up, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "I'm uh… I'm glad."

I could practically feel the grin radiating off Stiles beside me, and I quickly walked out of the room, one hand covering my face while I used the other to throw open the doors until I was safely back at the Jeep.

Then again, the Jeep wasn't exactly safe. In fact, the Jeep was probably the least safe place in town at the moment. I sat rigid in the passenger seat as Stiles climbed in the driver's side. We sat in silence for a few torturous seconds, Stiles glancing from me to the steering wheel and back again, while I tried to focus on nothing but the windshield wiper. Nothing.

Stiles started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot, and neither of us said a word. Suddenly every single reason I'd been nervous in the past week seemed to be slapping me in the face. Of course I'd had a reason. Of course I'd pushed it off. I'd kissed him twice now and he still wasn't saying anything. Then again, I wasn't saying anything either. But I'd been the one to initiate the kiss. He'd returned it, which I guess was good. It'd certainly felt good, until his dad walked in. But now we weren't talking again. Were we destined to do this forever? Kiss and avoid, kiss and avoid. I didn't think I could take that, quite honestly. The good memories seemed to taunt me, while the awkward silences were just pure, unadulterated torture. But I couldn't seem to make myself speak, either. Where did I start? Were we any farther than we'd been when I'd kissed him at Derek's house? Did putting it off make me any braver? No. It hadn't. I didn't have any better clue as to what I was supposed to do than I did when I'd been in the hospital. I had nothing. Maybe Kate was right. Maybe I was a coward.

We pulled up in front of my house. It was getting late, and the lights were still shining bright inside, which meant my mom was almost definitely waiting up for me. I was probably going to get grilled the moment I walked through the door. But my head was too crowded to worry about that. All I could think about was the suffocating tension in the Jeep, which literally felt like it was squeezing the air out of my lungs.

I saw Stiles move out of the corner of my eye and I jumped back. But he was just reaching into the back to hand me my purse. I pressed my lips together, taking it from him with a slight nod and resting it in my lap. I gazed down at my hands, and Stiles stared at the steering wheel. And we sat there. Not saying anything. We sat in complete silence until I just couldn't take it anymore.

"Um…"

Stiles's head snapped up to look at me, his eyes wide and his knuckles white on the wheel.

I licked my lips and shook my head slightly. "Thanks for driving me home."

"Oh. Yeah. No problem."

I waited another few seconds of silence, but the tension just continued to grow, filling up the car until I felt like it was physically pushing me out. "Goodnight."

"Night."

I quickly slid from the Jeep, shutting the door behind me and marching up the driveway. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was a coward. I was a stupid coward. How hard would it have been to say, _"Maybe next time you could just ask to kiss me,"_ or, _"How about you buy me dinner first"_? It didn't have to be some profound, heartfelt sap-fest. I just had to ask him out. That's all I had to do. And I hadn't. I'd run away again. And I knew that the next morning, I'd be just as afraid. And I'd keep putting it off, again and again, until he got tired of waiting and moved on. Because I was idiot. I was a stupid, idiotic, cowardly little…

"Sadie!"

I spun on the spot, turning back as Stiles jumped out of the Jeep, running around to stand at the end of my driveway. He had his hands held out in front of him, clapping and shaking and brandishing them as he tried to form whatever words it was that he was looking for. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes darted around the yard. And finally he sighed, his arms falling to his sides.

"Are… Are we seriously not going to talk about this?"

My heart jumped up into my throat, and I had to swallow hard to keep it down. "Talk about what?" I scrunched my face up the moment the words left my mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…

"About what?!" Stiles laughed derisively, throwing his head back and taking a moment to look up and down the street. "How—How about the fact that—that you just kissed me senseless back at the station?!"

My teeth dug into my lower lip. My stomach felt like it was tearing itself a part, warring between feeling anxious and embarrassed or giddy and proud. "Senseless?" I repeated meekly.

But Stiles pressed on, either too embarrassed to repeat himself or too worked up to notice I'd even opened my mouth, and still walking up the driveway. "I—I mean that's the second time you've kissed me and we still haven't talked about it! What—What am I supposed to do with that?! I'm going out of my freaking mind, okay? I know that you wanted to take care of Lydia and that's fine, I get it. And I know that you were worried about Isaac, and—and you had every right to be because even if they didn't want to kill him, he could've killed someone and I totally get that—that saving the townspeople and all that crap comes before personal stuff. But I…! I need to talk about it. Okay?! I need to! I mean, is—is this it? Is it just—just some spur of the moment kind of thing? Just being relieved because we're still alive after all the life-threatening crap that we go through? Cause…cause… If that's it then… Then okay. Then fine. If it's just an adrenaline rush and you just need to get it out of your system, then okay. I mean, I—I'm not complaining. Obviously. Why would I complain? But… But you need to tell me, okay? Cause… Cause I can't keep this up without knowing what's actually going on. I can't… I don't want to get my hopes up that…that you're…"

He lapsed into silence, squeezing his eyes shut. He raised a hand to his head, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead in frustration.

And that was all the push I needed. Stiles was just as frustrated as I was. Stiles was just as nervous as I was. Stiles was brave enough to make the first move. And on top of that? Stiles was completely ready to back off if it was something I wanted. He was going crazy, beating himself up looking for some explanation and putting himself through hell. And it was all my fault. Because I didn't have the guts to talk to him.

"Do you feel like we're in danger now?"

Stiles looked up at me in confusion as I walked closer. His head jerked back and forth, scanning my house and the yard and the street looking for a threat.

"Um, no? I don't think so? Unless you know something I…"

I closed the distance between us, lifting my free hand to the back of his neck to pull his face to mine. I gently pressed my lips against his, just for a second. He didn't even have time to respond before I stepped back, ducking my head on instinct. But I'd hidden enough over the past few days. I lifted my head, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a slight smile.

"What do you think you should do about that?"

Stiles stood stock-still. His eyes were still closed, his lips still puckered, and his arms still held out to the sides in shock. And he stayed like that for a moment. I blushed as his tongue swept over his lips, the rest of him still completely frozen. "Um, I'm not quite sure I got that. Could you try that again?"

"Stiles…"

"Okay, could you at least like, pinch me? Count your fingers or something? So I know I'm awake?"

"Stiles!"

"Yes! Sorry! Okay, uh…" He pried his eyes open, rubbing his hands together and blowing his cheeks up. "What should I do about that? What am I supposed to do about that? Uh… I feel, like… I… I should probably ask you…if…you would…like to go out with me some time…?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before wincing and looking up at me.

I smirked. "Are you asking? Or are you asking if you should ask?"

Stiles threw his head back and rolled his eyes, but I could see the corners of his lips turning upwards. "Fine. Sadie, would you like to go out with me some time? No werewolves, no law breaking, no life threatening. Just...Just us."

I bit my lip as my smirk grew, spreading across my face into a wide, manic grin. "Yeah. I… I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Stiles repeated, his own smile growing as his eyes went wide. "Y-Yes?"

I giggled, and nodded. "Yes, I would love to go out with you some time."

Stiles gaped for a few seconds before everything finally seemed to sink in. He closed his gaping mouth and bobbed his head, resting his hands on his hips. "Yes! Okay! Um, good. That's…That's great. Um… Should I…? I mean, I don't know… Should we plan something now or…?"

"Why don't you think about it and call me?" I offered.

"Right! Yeah, no! I'll—I'll call you. B-Because I have your number. And cell phones are a thing. Good." He nodded to himself, swiping a hand over his hair and then gesturing out to me. "Uh…do—do we…? Do I kiss you goodnight or…?"

I smirked, proudly thinking back to the train of thought my brain had been following before Stiles had stopped me from going into the house. "How about you buy me dinner first?"

His face fell slack for a moment, and then his grin returned two-fold. "I will! Yeah, I'll… So I'll just…um…"

I tucked my lips in, trying to control my smile. My cheeks were already beginning to ache. I took a step back, heading for the house. "Goodnight, Stilinski!" I called in a singsong voice.

Stiles's grin softened, turning from one of excitement to that tender one that sent the butterflies in my stomach into a rage. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, nodding. "Yeah. Night, Bennet."

I beamed, then turned on my heel and made my way back to the house. I tried to time my breathing with my walking, stopping me from sprinting or skipping and jumping, pumping my arms into the air in joy. But I couldn't stop myself from hopping up the steps, and when I reached the door, I chanced a glance behind me.

Stiles had walked back around the Jeep to the driver's side. Assumedly, he thought that would be enough cover, but I could still see just over the top and through the windows. It was enough to see his red plaid shirt jumping up and down, his fists occasionally popping up over the top of the car.

I leaned my back against the front door, crossing my arms over my chest. "I can still see you, genius!"

The red plaid froze, and Stiles's head slowly peeked around the front of the car. "What? Doing what? I'm not doing anything."

I grinned, shaking my head. "Go home, Stiles."

"You…! You are already home. Never mind."

I rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath before I pushed open the door and gently closed it behind me. I turned to face the hall, resting my head back against the door as I finally let my grin take over my whole face. Stiles did it. I did it. I had kissed Stiles again. Stiles had asked me out. I was going to go on a date with Stiles. He was going to go on a date with me. Not with Lydia. He wanted to go out with me.

"Sadie? Is that you?"

I froze as my mom's voice drifted into the front hall. My smile dropped into a gape. Right. Detention. Station. Coming home late. I was in trouble.

"Uh, yeah, Mom! Coming!"

I walked cautiously into the kitchen, to find my mother sitting at the counter with a cup of tea, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a tight line.

"Uh…hi…"

"Yeah. Hi."

"How are you?"

"How am I?" she repeated. "Hm, let me see. Well, my daughter is countless hours late coming home. She didn't call me to let me know where she was. Oh, and I got a call from her high school that she had to stay late for detention today! How would you say I'm doing?"

I winced, scratching the back of my neck. "Um…not very good…"

"Sadie, I honestly do not know what's going on. I mean, sure, every kid has their share of detentions. I wasn't an angel. But to not call and waltz in whenever you want? This isn't like you! What happened today?"

"Well, that depends," I started, dropping my purse on the counter and leaning next to her. "Are you talking about the detention I got for punching Jackson in the face for being an asshole, the talk I just had with Sheriff Stilinski down at the station, or the fact that Stiles just asked me out and I said yes?"

Mom stared at me for a moment, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows raised. Then she blinked hard, waving her hands in front of her and jumping to her feet. Before I knew what was happening, she'd pulled me to her chest, hugging all of the air out of my lungs as she jumped up and down.

"Mom! Ribcage!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" She pulled back, a huge smile on her face. She forced it off for a second and brandished a finger in my face. "Okay, you are totally not off the hook, but you are going to tell me everything! Hold on, I'm gonna make tea and popcorn!" She kissed my forehead and darted around the counter rushing for the cabinet for snacks.

"No, no, no! Wait for me!"

I turned around as Lydia came barreling down the stairs, dressed in one of her silky nightgowns, strawberry blonde hair flying behind her, and her face completely and totally human. She was positively beaming, and sprinted over to capture me in yet another vice-grip hug.

"Lyd!" I squeaked. "You're okay!"

"Oh please, do not start that again," she scoffed, standing back to hold me at arm's length. Then the glare gave way to giggling. "Ugh, I am so proud of you! Ah! Finally sucking it up. But! I still want to hear the details first hand, of the whole day. I only got to watch from my window."

"W-What?!" I asked, jaw dropping as I thought of all the references Stiles and I had made to putting out lives in danger and the supernatural aspects of Beacon Hills. "You—You were listening?! How much did you hear?!"

"Um, nothing?" she said, giving me a pitying, doubtful look as if the answer should have been obvious. "Not when my best friend decided to stand too far away from my window and not project! I had the best seat in the house, and I still got ripped off. Which is why you're giving us a play by play recap. Right now." She shoved me in the direction of one of the chairs at the counter, then scurried over to my mom to help with the popcorn.

I just chuckled and fell into my seat, exhausted. But it was a good kind of exhausted. We'd saved Isaac, made sure no one else had gotten hurt, gotten a definitive answer as to whether or not Lydia was turning into a werewolf, and Stiles and I had finally gotten the chance to talk. We'd done it. And for the moment, everything was okay.

* * *

**A/N: *angelic choir sings* And there it is! The chapter you've all been waiting for! And after about 375,000 words, Stiles and Sadie are finally together. Celebration!**

**I'm not going to lie, I'm super nervous about posting this. I really, really hope you guys don't become disinterested because they're finally dating. I've got some cool stuff in order, and I'm just praying that I can continue to make this story worthwhile even though the question of will-they-or-won't-they has finally been answered.**

**As usual, thank you all so much for your continued support. I can't even believe that I've finally gotten to the point in a story where my characters are actually together! That's mind boggling to me. I have to write dates now! I need to write couple-y stuff now! God! And I wouldn't have been able to make it to this point without your support. Thank you for favoriting, thank you for following, thank you for messaging. Thank you for the lovely reviews I received from LionHeartMisfit, DarthVadress, papapapaloma, FangedLovers, emele807, Valkyrie101, BrightEyes20, MagicalMemories, aliciasellers75, Kelly1432, Daenerys86, blahicantthinkofaname (you win an award, that review was beautiful), Emmalee Adams, a. Paper. heaRt, cat-afterlife, anotherpageinmystory, KennyLuvs-1D-MBSV-BTR-TeenWolf (Happy Birthday!), Bookiee, BTR14, iheartanime07, Ilovpineapples, and easythowaway. Also, thank you for the sweet messages from this moment is stardust, Charlie Cheesecake and TheWalkingSilence! 3**

**I hope this chapter lived up to expectations, and I cannot wait to hear what you all have to say about it. Thank you so much again!**

**-Brittney**


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